Christmas Memories
by Cumor
Summary: It's Christmas eve, and the Cullens have gathered around the tree to enjoy some quiet time together, while sharing memories of Christmases from their human lives so very long ago. Warning: A few of these shared tales contain disciplinary spanking and one story contains spousal abuse which maybe difficult for some readers. If this will make you uncomfortable, please don't read.
1. Christmas Memories - Carlisle

**Warning:** Several shared memories will contain disciplinary spanking; some harsh, some very mild. If you find this offensive, please don't stress yourself by reading this. There are many other stories on this site to be enjoyed.

**Disclaimer: **Well, as much as I wish this wasn't the case, all of the wonderful recognizable characters are not mine. They are merely on loan from the very gracious Stephenie Meyer. I promise not to harm them in any way... not in this story at least.

**AN:** Meet my Nanowrimo achievement. Sorry to have gone MIA for the last month, but I took up the challenge to write 50,000 words in 30 days. I'm happy to announce that I've succeeded, so my holiday gift to my wonderful readers is complete. I hope that you all will enjoy this trip down memory lane with our little vampire family. What started as a simply plot bunny born out of "Some Memories Never Fade", has really grown.

Now, I do know that the pain of the transformation is reported to obliterate a vampires human memories, but out Cullens seem to be the exception to that rule anyway given that they appear to have retained quite a bit of information pertaining to their backgrounds. With that in mind, I took the ball and ran with it.

Thank you all for your patience and support. Y'all are the best! Special thanks to my beta Splinter and my friends, proof-readers, muses etc. Jasper1863Hale, Cullen1007, rubyblue100, and edwardian1901. I would not have made it through this without all of you. *hugs*

So without further ado... Please enjoy.

* * *

Carlisle sat and watched the fire dancing over the hearth while the snow outside billowed and swirled on the evening breeze.

His family had gathered together as they had for nearly every Christmas eve. Tonight there would be no video games or television distractions. It was just time for the family to share in the joy of the season while they slowed down, reflected on their good fortune, and simply enjoyed each other's company.

Usually they would sing songs, exchange stories and play games much like humans had done back in his day long before the pace of life quickened and commercialism claimed the holiday. The only thing that would be missing from their celebration was the feasts their human companions indulged in during the seasonal festivities.

During the twelve days between Christmas and the Feast of the Epiphany, Carlisle preferred to fast; not wishing to bring harm to any living being during this festival of light, hope and peace. While he never imposed this particular philosophy on his family, as a whole, the Cullens generally followed the example set by the patriarch and refrained from hunting for the duration of Christmas. Their family feast on the sixth of January was inevitably more fun and exciting after proving to each other that they all possessed the willpower to abstain for those twelve days.

The doctor inwardly sighed at a memory from some years ago when Emmett and Jasper had turned the twelve day fast into a real competition. They taunted, tempted and teased each other until Carlisle was finally forced to step in and demand that they both feed just to put an end to their foolishness.

This had happened during the first few years after Jasper and Alice had joined his family, and the soldier's restraint had not been as strong as it was now. Luckily, the children were still out of school for the holidays when the contest hit the point that required his intervention. Carlisle shuddered to think about what could have happened if classes had resumed before the Texan's thirst had been quenched.

Later that evening, the patriarch sat down with his boys to discuss the foolhardiness of their game. When he was done, both promised to never go down that path again, but every Christmas the contest renewed itself just the same. They were a bit more low-keyed now, but his boys could never allow an opportunity to challenge one another pass them by.

"Yo, Jazzman. Hope you tanked up last night because it's gonna be a long two weeks."

"You just worry about yourself, Em. I'm gonna be just fine, but you know I've seen a few bears prowling around just calling your name. Looks like not all of them have denned up for winter. Imagine that. It's like nature herself has taken pity on you and decided to drop a couple of holiday gifts at your door before she hides that tasty treat away until Spring. It is such a shame that you can't enjoy them."

A cocky smirk crossed the southerner's face, and his eyes twinkled at hearing his brother groan.

"Jasper Cullen, you didn't disturb those bears did you?" Esme asked in a sharp tone as she settled down on the sofa next to her mate.

"I would never do such a thing, Momma," Jasper answered while pressing his hand to his chest, totally affronted by the mere suggestion that he would take part in such an underhanded act.

"Jasper," Carlisle raised a brow as he caught his son's eye.

The boy's expression turned a touch sheepish, but he still grinned.

"I might have knocked against a tree or two accidentally while I was out for a run."

"That will be enough of that, young man," his mother scolded. "You'll leave those animals alone. You know that it isn't healthy for them to be disturbed during their winter hibernation."

"I think it's healthy enough as long as Em is laying off the bear juice," the boy replied with a bit of sass and a grin that had melted many a heart.

Esme narrowed her eyes at her southern soldier, letting her expression convey much more than her words ever could.

Catching on quickly to his mother's displeasure, Jasper dipped his head apologetically.

"Yes, Ma'am. Don't disturb the bears for their good and mine," he muttered softly while pulling Alice into his lap before quickly changing the subject. "So what shall we do? I'm kinda in the mood for a story or two."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Esme quickly agreed. "Carlisle, why don't you start us off?"

"A story? Hmm. What sort of a story?"

"You know I've always wondered what happened to all that money. How about that?"

All eyes in the room turned to the bruin who hunkered down on the couch opposite of his parents.

"What money, Emmy?" Rose inquired.

"Jesus' savings fund. You know, the coin he got from those wise dudes. He never appeared to have any money with the walking everywhere and eating bread and fish. You would think that he could have done better for himself than that, though the water into wine thing was a pretty rockin' trick. Being able to tie one on must have taken the apostles' minds off of their aching feet," Emmett shared as he nodded. "So what did Joseph do with all that gold? Do you think he squandered it away on booze and broads? That doesn't seem very saintly, but it had to have gone somewhere. It couldn't have just disappeared unless those royal dudes gave 'em fake gold. You know, something like foil wrapped chocolate coins or something. Those would have melted away in that desert heat."

"I never even thought about that, Emmett," Carlisle admitted. "I really have no idea."

"A preacher's son is supposed to know all about those religious things, Pops."

"Sorry to have disappointed you, son, but that wasn't something my father taught."

"Maybe you could call up Aro or Caius. They lived back then. They're sure to have the lowdown."

Carlisle closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, before finally looking back at this curious boy.

"Em, I don't believe that they moved in the same circles as the holy family. Aro may be the lord of his manor and we all know that Marcus is a saint." Carlisle coughed lightly to cover his blasphemy before clearing his throat to continue. "But, I feel safe in saying that they didn't find themselves in the Holy Land during that period in history."

"Yeah, probably not. I guess they had more important things on their minds than attending the Jesus World Tour," the bruin conceded in a disappointed tone.

"I bet I know what he did with it!" Edward interjected with a grin. "Carpenter's tools don't come cheap, Em. The money probably all went towards start up cost for the family business."

"Nah. Since he was a carpenter, he would have made his own tools instead of going down to the local hardware store to buy them."

"How would he have cut them out and fastened them together without some sort of other tools?" Edward challenged.

"He would have just... Say, Eddie, you could be right, but then we are right back to the question of what happened to the moola?"

"Maybe Joseph made a couple of bad investments and lost it all in the great stock market crash of A.D. Four," Rose suggested as she rubbed her husband's shoulder.

"Oh, man, I didn't know they had a crash back then. Wouldn't you think that God would have given them tips so they could have yanked the cash out in time. Looks like they could have used an Alice to keep the finances straight."

Alice giggled at her silly brother while her mate rolled his eyes before clearing his throat.

"Papa, I have an idea. Some time back you promised me a story about a certain young hell raising Cullen. If it wouldn't make you too uncomfortable, maybe you can share a story from your boyhood? A Christmas story, perhaps? Do you remember celebrating Christmas back in the day?"

Carlisle gave a short snort as he glanced down at his hands for a couple of seconds before looking back up at his family.

"I do indeed, Jasper, but it's funny that you bring that up because one of the incidents that I referred to took place during the holiday season. It was certainly a memorable Christmas, though I would have liked it to have been a little more joyful."

Inhaling deeply, the patriarch chewed on his bottom lip reflectively then nodded.

"I'll share a Christmas tale, but I think that it's only fair that all of you do the same. We could all do with hearing some happy memories after enduring a story about my human life, so that will be the deal. A story for a story. Agreed?"

A round of affirmations came from the gathering while they focused intently on their leader.

The doctor leaned back into the cradling sofa cushion as his mate placed a light hand on his knee to offer her silent support. Giving Esme a gentle smile, Carlisle shifted around and pulled her to lean against him so he could wrap his arms around his treasure.

The thought of sharing a glimpse of this past with anyone was frightening, but this was his family. Over the decades they had shared much of their histories with him, both the good and bad. He had never judged them, and there was no reason to believe that they would treat him any differently, but the lingering fear of being shunned was something he had never managed to completely resolve.

The complete attention currently shown by his children was reason enough to tackle this demon. It was obvious to the very private man that his family wanted to know him better and he would be a hypocrite to deny them. A glimpse through the window of his soul would be the strangest Christmas gift that he had ever passed out, but with the strength of his mate's love to ground him, he would survive.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he began to fall back through the ages to a point in time when a young boy who knew little of the world was still able to get caught up in the joy and excitement of the holidays.

"During my youth, Christmas was actually banned because Cromwell and the Puritan force behind him felt that it threatened true Christian values."

"But it's a celebration of the birth of Jesus," Emmett stated in confusion.

"Among other things," his father agreed.

"How can that threaten Christian values?"

"The majority of our feast days have no biblical justification, but the main threat comes from the way we celebrate. Twelve days of festivities tend to end with a lot of over indulged people. Since fun for fun's sake was outlawed back then, you can easily see why they frowned on Christmas."

Shock took over Em's face as he stared at Carlisle.

"Fun was against the law? Well damn, I would have been in serious trouble."

The patriarch laughed at the boy and nodded.

"Yes, Em, it's not a stretch of the imagination to think that you would have spent a great deal of time in the stockade."

"That's messed up, Pops."

"It was a dark period, but most people still celebrated, they just chose quieter methods.

My father wasn't one for breaking laws, but he could not abide by the cancellation of Christmas mass. Even if it wasn't held in the church, there would still be private masses held at individual houses. He would see to that standard of the holiday.

With that said, he was more than happy to accept the canceling of the secular side of things, so we had a modest meal and there was no exchange of gifts. It was a religious day for reflection and nothing more. In my father's eyes, Easter was the more important holiday. The miracle of the resurrection was much more noteworthy than the simple birth of a human child."

"Wow, Pops. I know your childhood sucked, but no Christmas is just..."

"Beyond the pale?" the elder offered quietly.

"If that means uber suckage, then yeah, we can go with that. Dang, how can you have a Christmas memory if you never even had any Christmases?"

"My father's lack of celebrating didn't mean that I never celebrated," he answered with a grin. "Since I was the Pastor's son, people would often slip me a few sweets or an illegal mince pie. On the rare occasion, I might even be offered a couple of pennies to add to my Christmas coffer with the idea that I would be buying something for my father."

"Would he even accept gifts?" Edward inquired.

"Yes, though whatever I gave him was deemed nothing more than a childish trinket and quickly cast aside; a fact that actually brings us to the beginning of my story."

Carlisle ran a hand through his hair and fortified his determination to see this through. When he made his promise to Jasper, he had only meant to share this retelling with his soldier boy, a much simpler task then what laid before him now.

Clearing his throat, the patriarch started in a near whisper.

"Several months ago, Jasper and I had a little chat during which I disclosed to him that on occasion I gave my father reason enough to discipline me."

This statement was met with scoffs of disbelief, but the doctor raised a hand to quiet his brood.

"I'm not saying that I deserved to be abused and degraded; no one deserves to be treated like that. What I am admitting is that I was not immune to getting into mischief. Most of my transgressions were minor enough. Simple childish errors or momentary lapses in common sense were my normal offenses, but one Christmas I allowed a lapse in common sense to earn me a well deserved thrashing.

I must have been around six or so at the time. I wanted nothing more than my father's praise and acceptance. He wasn't exactly generous in those categories when it came to me, but to be fair, he rarely praised the efforts of anyone. Proper behavior and hard work were expected, and Father felt that they should be their own reward. Sadly, that knowledge never stopped me from seeking his approval. All sons want their father's love and nothing can compare to actually hearing those words spoken aloud."

Carlisle's tone had grown heavy with emotion, so he stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts before forging ahead.

"I watched other families and marveled at the expressions of love between parent and child. I knew that coveting our neighbors was a sin, but I was young and couldn't help the way I felt. I saw how happy parents were with little token gifts from their children and thought that if I could give my father something special I might just be able to buy his love."

"He should have never made you feel like you had to earn his love," Rosalie snarled low. "He was your father, though he never seemed to act like it. The love of a parent is unconditional."

"It should be, Kitty, but there are a few of us who have had to jump through hoops at some point in our lives to maintain that 'unconditional' love. You have found yourself among those effected by an askew notion of the parent-child relationship."

Rose folded her arms and scowled.

"They still loved me."

"As they should, but they also used you to help increase their social standing. A parent should seek to better their child, not look to a child for what he or she can do for them, but I digress.

There I was trying to decide on a gift that my father would deem to be of value. I had little pocket money, just what I managed to earn doing odd jobs around town, but I found myself wandering the docks and searching the merchant's wares for just the right thing.

I looked at trinkets from the metal workers and considered a new hat or gloves and scarf to keep him warm on his nightly hunts, but a panther headed walking stick carved from ebony caught my eye. It was solid black with sparkling green eyes. Thinking back, I'm sure that those were bits of glass, but to my childish mind they were precious emeralds from some far off exotic land.

I inquired about the cane, but naturally it would have never been in my price range so I moved on. I eventually found myself considering a new razor or a fancy gilded paged bible, but that damn cat had set my mind a blaze.

I could picture my father walking down the street with his men ready to do battle with any demon ignorant enough to challenge him, and all the while, his hand rested on the head of that emerald-eyed snarling panther. I reasoned that it would make a suitable weapon against the forces of evil, thereby offering my father extra protection.

My feverish mind searched and searched for a way to secure this gift before Christmas...and then, it was gone."

The elder sighed as the memory played out in his head, forcing him to relive a moment from his past that he would have been only too happy to have forgotten.

* * *

"Sir? Excuse me, sir? Where's the stick that's usually here," the fair haired boy called out to the man in the wagon.

"What stick, son?"

"The one sporting the cat head with the green eyes."

"Sold it just before you showed up, didn't I? It went off with a dapper looking gent."

"But that was my father's present. How could you have sold it?"

"I'm sorry, laddie, but a man has to eat. The gentleman offered me cash. I couldn't very well turn him down. Can't feed my family that way." The merchant glanced over Carlisle and, after noting his meager state, shook his head. "It's not like you would have been able to pay for it anyway so it was for the best. Why don't you go run along and find something else that your father would enjoy. I'm sure there's something in your price range some where out here."

"No!" Carlisle stamped his foot against the worn wooden dock in a rare show of temper . "That was my father's walking stick. You know that it was to be mine, and you gave it to the wrong person. Now get it back for me."

"I'll be doing no such thing. Just calm yourself and have a look around. Find something else, and I'll make you the best deal that I can."

"I don't want anything else!"

The carefully laid out merchandise was suddenly tossed carelessly to the ground as Carlisle gave into a fit of fury. The angry words of the merchant fell on deaf ears, while the boy continued to rage, but the vicar's son was not so far gone as to overlook the flash of sunlight reflecting from faceted green eyes.

The man with the cane had been attracted by the ruckus. Returning to offer the seller help with his hooligan problem, the man unknowingly placed his property in danger.

Charging into the thickening crowd, the young boy crashed into the man's legs, taking him by surprise and bowling him over onto his back. The force of impact sent the youth's prize skittering across the planks to become lost among the forest of legs that surrounded them.

With cat like reflexes, Carlisle was back on his feet, avoiding the hands of strangers who attempted to detain him while he quickly scanned the ground. Spotting the cane lying idle against a crate, he darted towards it the moment the merchant made a grab for him. The man's strong fingers caught the collar of the lad's coat, but the vicar's boy wiggled free from the binding fabric, caught the cane, and raced off through the twisting alleys, never slowing his pace until all sounds of pursuit had faded away.

* * *

A long, low whistle brought Carlisle back to the present.

"Damn, Pops. Here I thought I was a trouble maker, but I'm going to have to hand my crown over to you. I would have never imagined that you would do something like that. Stealing? Preacher man's son stealing? That's some shit right there."

"I'm certainly not proud of that day, Em, but we all tend to do some silly things growing up. We tell ourselves that we won't get caught, or that we have a very good reason for the stunts we pull, but that is rarely the case."

"I was always told that a minister's kid was the worst of the lot when it came to getting into trouble. Something about them needing to let loose since they are minding their ps and qs at home," Jasper shared before flickering his eyes over Carlisle. "Still, I would never believe that you were capable of stealing. Ya don't strike me as a ruffian, Papa. Carlisle the delinquent. Who would have thunk it?"

"He wasn't being a delinquent," Alice chimed in, coming to Carlisle's defense. "He was just a little boy trying to do something nice for his daddy. It's not like he planned on stealing it. If that had been the case, he would have done it right away when he first saw it."

"And Emmett didn't mean to blow up the greenhouse, but that didn't make it less wrong, now did it?"

Alice stared into her mate's eyes for a few moments before conceding defeat with an unhappy sigh as she glanced away and faintly whispered, "No. I guess not."

Carlisle smiled at his children and cleared his throat.

"It's nice to see that those lessons didn't fall on deaf ears."

"More like they fell on sore butts," Emmett corrected with a slight wince from the memory, causing Carlisle to chuckle before turning his attention to his little girl.

"I appreciate you trying to justify my actions, princess, but Jasper is correct. My behavior was deplorable and it wasn't long before I realized it."

* * *

Standing in the muck of the narrow alley, Carlisle leaned back and stared up into the graying sky while he struggled to catch his breath. With his heart rate slowing back to normal, he was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief and steal a glance at his hard won prize.

It was magnificent and it was all his.

Running a finger along the smooth wood, he looked closely at the fierce snarl on the cat's face as it bared its fangs at him. It looked ready to defend its owner and only a fool would dare to challenge its might; a fool, or a foolish boy.

Huffing out a breath, the slender blond allowed a vision of the man he had knocked down to enter his mind. The cat hadn't done much to protect him, but surely it would protect his father. It hadn't come to the man's defense because he wasn't the rightful owner. That was the only logical reason. Carlisle would not have been able to take it if the walking stick had not wanted to come to him. It knew that it was meant for greatness, and that meant that it was destined to be under the employ of Cillian Cullen, the champion of virtue and justice; the banisher of evil.

_And what are you?_ the panther seemed to ask as it stared back at the youth, its green eyes now dulled by the lack of sunlight in the dank hideaway.

"I'm my father's son," the boy whispered out loud. "I will follow in his footsteps to become a great man as well. Evil will tremble at the sound of my name."

_Or might it be more likely to embrace you as its brother?_

The lad suddenly scoffed at the idea with a firm shake of his head.

"Impossible. I'm a vicar's son. I am immune to evil," Carlisle proclaimed decisively as he tightened his grip on the stick while making his way out of the alley to head towards home.

The idea that evil could find a place in him was preposterous. He was much too strong for that, and should he weaken, his father would surely protect him from its influence. The panther lied. He was a good boy, all the townspeople told him that so it must be true. His father was a good man. He would not rear a sinful child who could be tainted by evil.

As Carlisle walked along the sparsely wooded path that led him home, a soft mist of rain began to fall. The weight of the walking stick seemed to increase with each step he took and the dampness of the air made him shiver.

Without his overcoat, it took no time for the rain to soak his clothing and chill him to the bone. While the longing for his coat set in, so did the realization that he couldn't go home.

Carlisle couldn't return without his coat or his father would be cross with him for having been careless again, and there was no way that he could explain the conditions by which they had parted ways. The youth needed a moment to think if he hoped to find a way out of the mess he had created. Finding a sheltered spot beneath a low tree limb, he hunkered down with the cane at his feet.

"You know this is all your fault? If you hadn't let yourself be bought by the wrong person, I wouldn't have this problem."

The mute predator stared up at him with its own accusation behind those cold, hard, emerald eyes. There was a look to it that seemed almost alive to the youth's wild imagination, so he wasn't surprised when it finally whispered to him in a voice that was all too familiar. It was the panther who spoke in his head, but it had borrowed his father's voice.

_You did this to yourself. Don't blame others for your failings, boy. Own your mistakes._

"I only wanted to give you something nice for Christmas. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

_But you did. You disrupted the merchant's business. You knocked a man of means into the dirt and very well may have injured him. And all for what? So you can disgrace yourself and me even further by taking another man's property? Do you think knowledge that I raised a thief is a proper present to celebrate a holy birth? _

_You are filthy with sin, Carlisle. How could I ever love a boy who allows himself to be so easily swayed from the path of righteousness? You are no son of mine._

"Don't say that. It isn't true."

_Dirty. Evil. Vile. Weak._

"I'm not."

_A sinful abomination in the eyes of God. _

"No. That's not true!" the boy yelled as he stood up and kicked the symbol of his sin away. A feeling of satisfaction came over him at hearing the walking stick collide against a large stone with a dull crack.

_Then prove it!_

"How? How can I prove it?"

_You know how._ The voice had changed to a low rumbling growl more suitable for a jungle beast or a demon from the blackest pit of Hell.

Even though Carlisle knew it was folly to converse with a demon, he couldn't help respond.

"I don't know," he admitted in a shaky whisper. "I don't know what to do."

_Confess. Admit to your sins. Admit that you are a failure when it comes to being a son. Confess your sin and pray to suffer. That is the only way that your soul may be cleansed._

The lad shook his head while pressing the heels of his hands against his temples.

"I can't," he mewled as his heart was crushed by guilt and fear.

_Because you are a pathetic, worthless boy who is undeserving of love._

It was his father's voice that echoed the words that Carlisle feared most.

_I never wanted you. You should have never been born. From the moment that you first drew breath I knew you for what you were, a worthless creature who ruins everything he touches. You killed the one good thing in my life, and I hated you then the same as I hate you today._

Salty tears mixed with the rain that dripped from the boy's hair to race in rivulets down his cheeks.

"That's not true. You do love me. I know that sometimes I make that very hard for you to do, but I still know that I am loved. I'll fix this. I'll be the son you deserve. I'll do whatever it takes to make you proud so that you won't be embarrassed to show your love for me."

Carlisle wiped his nose with the back of his hand while he went to retrieve the cane from the deepening muck. Cleaning the mud from the cat's face with his shirt tail, the youth gasped in horror when he discovered one of the eyes was missing. Frantically, he felt around on the ground near the rock where it had landed, but his efforts were in vain. The small shard of green was lost in the mire of mud forever.

Swallowing hard, he stared at the one-eyed panther with its flattened ears and deadly snarl. The boy's heart sank as he rubbed his thumb over the empty socket.

"I can't fix you, but I can still try to give you back to the person you belong to."

With his head bowed low, the miserable little Cullen slowly made his way back to the docks only to find them abandoned. A combination of the rain and the rapidly approaching nightfall had chased all of the decent people away. The few who still skulked in the shadows were not individuals that the lad found welcoming.

Glancing at the empty cart with a sickening feeling, Carlisle briefly considered leaving the damaged cane against it, but knew that wouldn't solve his dilemma. The likelihood of it still being there come morning was slim,and even if it was, the youth knew that penance had to be served along with the making of restitution if he was to be forgiven.

Even though his father had strictly forbidden him from entering the ale houses and coffee rooms, the lad found himself wandering down the back alleys that led to those houses of ill repute. Ducking into one after another, he searched the crowds of patrons for a familiar face while praying for a miracle. At the Lion's Roar, Carlisle's prayer was finally answered.

At a table near the fire sat a distinguished gentlemen sipping ale while engaging in some learned discussion.

With his heart beating like a bird's, Carlisle picked his way across the crowded main room towards the warming fire.

"Excuse me, sir," his voice squeaked so quietly that it was quickly lost in the noise of the room.

Wiping his hands clean on the front of his trousers, he tapped the man on the shoulder.

"Sir? Pardon me, please, but I believe this belongs to you."

Carlisle began to tremble as he held the walking stick out for the man to take.

The gentleman looked surprised to see the ruffian from this afternoon standing at his side, then narrowed his eyes and scowled at the boy.

"What trick is this?"

"No trick, sir. Please take it. It was never mine to own. You bought it. It belongs to you."

Gently, but with a note of disdain for the youngster, the man accepted the item that the boy had relieved him of earlier.

"Am I to believe that you think this voids your responsibility for your actions? You expect me to forgive and forget?"

Carlisle shook his lowered head.

"Speak up, boy," the man growled, causing Carlisle to stiffen as he glanced up at the patron.

"No, sir, I do not expect forgiveness, but I wanted you to know that I really am truly sorry for having offended you."

Continuing to study the grim child before him, the gentleman felt his anger lessen.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Carlisle Cullen, sir."

"Cullen? The vicar's son?" the man inquired with a raised brow.

Swallowing hard, Carlisle nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I should think that he would have taught you better. You realize that you have committed a crime that I could have you imprisoned for?"

"I know that I have committed a sin and God is not pleased with me." The youth's head fell and his shoulders sagged while a heavy sigh forced the air from his lungs.

"That's correct as well." The man cocked his head to the side. "And what do you think we should do with you?"

"I have confessed, so now I must atone before I can be forgiven." Every hair on the boy's body stood erect as he struggled to control his trembling. "You must beat me, sir, so that I may learn not to repeat my sinful acts."

The man was taken back by Carlisle's declaration. Blinking back his shock, he thought for a moment before shaking his head.

"I think a better idea would be to see you home. I wanted to talk to your father about hosting a Christmas mass in my home anyway. You can confess your misdeed to him and he will decide on a fitting punishment."

The child's bright blue eyes opened wide with fear.

"Please, sir, can't you do it yourself? I promise not to run or make too much of a fuss. You can even beat me with your walking stick if you like. I'm sure that is appropriate."

The gentleman looked shocked at the lad's suggestion and shook his head.

"No, boy. There will be none of that. This is a matter best left to your father."

"But, I don't want him to know. I never meant... It was to be his Christmas gift and now I've ruined everything."

With tears flooding his eyes, the youth glanced down at the tavern floor in shame until a light touch beneath his jaw brought his head back up.

"You have made a childish error and nothing more. Moreover, you caught that error yourself and have sought me out to try to rectify the damage. Nothing is ruined, lad, but it is plain to see that your spirit is burdened and there is only one cure for that." Placing some coins on the table, the man wished his companion a good night as he stood and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Come now, let's get you home."

Sniffling and swallowing hard at the lump in his throat, Carlisle shook his head again while keeping his eyes downcast.

The man softened his tone as he called the boy's name. "Carlisle, listen to me. Whatever you fear right now, I can promise you that it is worse in the mind than in reality. The sooner we get you home, the sooner your fear can be laid to rest."

"Father will be mad. He won't want me anymore."

"That shall hardly be the case. Any man would be proud to claim you as a son. A single error in judgment does not define a person. Your Father in heaven forgives us all of our sins. Your earthly father will do the same by you, but just as you must ask for forgiveness from God, so must you ask this of your father.

There is a good man slumbering inside the scamp of a boy I see before me, Carlisle Cullen. He just needs time and guidance to come about." Brushing a dirty blond lock out of the youth's face, the gentleman gave him a reassuring smile. "The hour is becoming late and surely your father will have begun to wonder where you are. Let's not keep him worrying any longer."

Applying gentle pressure to the child's shoulder, the man turned him towards the door and guided him out into the street where he slowly but steadily began to lead the way home.


	2. Christmas Memories - Carlisle part 2

"Is that where you learned it?"

Carlisle glanced up at his lovely blond daughter with a question in his eyes that he quietly voiced.

"Learned what, Kitty?"

"The right way to treat a person. We have always known that wasn't something you picked up from your father, and I'm sure that I'm not the only one who has wondered how you learned to be such a good parent."

"I always figured it was some superpower that he was born with," the bruin suggested. "My Pops: da da dahhh...Superdad!"

"Hardly, Emmett," Carlisle chuckled. "I have made many more than my share of mistakes. Edward can attest to that. There was a great deal of trial and error in those first years of fatherhood. At times, I wasn't sure that either of us would survive."

"You didn't make that many mistakes," the bronze haired boy stated with a crooked grin. "I was the one making most of them."

"Well, I still make mistakes to this very day even after a century of parenting. Sadly, no one can ever be perfect." The man sighed wistfully before returning his attention to his daughter. "To answer your question, Rose, that man did have a rather large influence on me. During my time, it was common for a disobedient child to find himself whipped by the person he wronged and then again at home. It's what I fully expected, but instead this man showed me patience and kindness that I had never known. It was something that struck me as odd, but I was moved by the gesture, and it quickly became a quality that I wanted to emulate."

"I would say that you've succeeded," Esme remarked while the children nodded in agreement.

"I don't know. I still have my moments."

"Very few and far between, love." She reached up and kissed his cheek, bringing a smile to the patriarch's face.

"So, I'm pretty certain that we can all imagine what happened once you made it home," Edward voiced glumly.

A sadness came over the elder while he heaved a heavy sigh.

"My father was ...displeased."

* * *

"I certainly hope that you vigorously corrected his thievery and the assault he committed upon your person," the vicar snapped as he gave his son a dark look that caused the youth to shrink back and tremble.

"Why no, Vicar. I would not have felt right taking a hand to your child."

"A hand?" Cillian gave a humorless laugh while he continued to stare at his frightened boy. "The belt is the least that he deserves, and what he can look forward to feeling from me. A hand is hardly firm enough to effectively drive Satan out of him. He should count himself lucky to not be lashed to the whipping post in the square for a punishment that truly befits his crime."

"Vicar Cullen," the gentleman spoke up as he placed a comforting hand on the young child's shoulder. "You should know that the boy realized his folly and came back of his own accord. I'm sorry, but I must disagree with your idea that there is evil in your son. I doubt many in his situation would have found the heart to come find me with the sole purpose of looking to correct their mistake. That, sir, is the action of an honest child, one of whom you can be proud.

While I don't deny that he has earned his punishment, I would ask that you show him a touch of mercy and not be too harsh with the lad. He's a good boy who is simply in need of a little guidance to reset his feet firmly back on a just path."

Inwardly the vicar seethed at having a stranger tell him how to rear his son, but outwardly he nodded while a venomous smile curled his lips.

"His feet shall find that path and he will not stray from it again. Of that, you may rest assured." Once more his glare fell on the boy who bowed his head under the weight of his father's anger. "Get inside, Carlisle. To the corner on your knees where you may confess your sins to the Almighty and pray that he finds your retched soul worthy of redemption."

As Carlisle went to take a step towards the door, the gentle touch to his shoulder tightened for a moment, bringing him to a halt. Looking up, he found himself staring into compassionate dark brown eyes.

"Be brave, lad. It will be over soon, and you will have earned the forgiveness that you seek."

Glancing down in shame, he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, and gave a brief nod, before easing past his formidable father to disappear into the house.

"I thank you for bringing my son home and informing me of his transgression. I will see to it that he never bothers you or anyone else in this manner again."

"I'm sure that he will take the lesson to heart."

"Yes. That he will."

"And we can expect you and your son on Christmas Eve for Mass?"

"Of course," the vicar confirmed with a more pleasant expression. "Always happy to share the Word with the faithful."

"Until then,Vicar, and may I wish you the very happiest of holidays." The man gave a shallow bow as he tipped his hat.

"And may God's blessing be upon you and your family. Good night, Mr. Kerrich and safe journey."

The sound of the closing door being bolted brought a fresh flood of tears to the young boy's eyes. All hope for a peaceful night left with the gentleman who he had wronged.

"I cannot believe that you would disgrace me like this," his father snarled while latching onto the back of the boy's neck and hauling him up on his feet. "You will NEVER do this again or, as God is my witness, I will flay the hide off of your wretched carcass. Do you hear me, BOY?"

Carlisle tried to nod, but the pressure to the back of his neck increased and impeded his movement.

"I asked you a question, and I expect you to answer respectfully."

"Yes, Father."

"Yes, Father, what?"

"Yes, Father, I heard you," came the boy's tearful shaking response. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to disappoint you, or do anything bad. I only wanted to have something special to give to you at Christmas."

"So you would steal and then involve me directly in your sin by gifting me a pilfered present?" He shook the child before finally releasing his iron hold.

"I wanted to buy it. Truly. I tried to raise the money by helping out on the docks, but I never made more than a few pence."

"You know that you aren't allowed to go to the docks by yourself. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is down there?" Cillian turned away from his son and closed his eyes as his anger reached new heights. "So you have been lying to me about your daily outings to go to fraternize with the common scum. Is that the station you want in life, boy? You want to become a wharf rat?"

"No, Father. I want to become a vicar like you. Honestly, I do."

"It doesn't appear that you know what honesty means, Carlisle, so how can I believe a word that you say? You've become a liar and a thief. You'll never be a son that I can be proud of until you mend your sneaky, swindling ways." Turning back on the boy with eyes that flashed in anger, the vicar growled. "And where is the coat that I worked so hard to put on your ungrateful back? Did you sell it for a few pence to waste on sweets or some bits of tin?"

"I..." The child's voice cracked before it failed him completely.

"You what?" Cillian hissed as his voice dropped dangerously low.

"I lost it," Carlisle admitted while his stomach lurched into his throat.

"You lost it. Then I guess you'll just freeze, won't you? I know that you don't expect me to buy you a new one. I assume that will be the next item you'll acquire unlawfully."

"I have my old coat. It just needs a few patches. It will do until I figure out where I left my new one." Carlisle sniffled as he quickly wiped at his eyes. "Please don't be angry, Father. I know that I'm careless. I'll try to do better."

"You appreciate nothing that I give you. I work hard to keep a roof over your miserable head, clothes on your back, and food in your stomach, and _this_ is how you repay me."

"It was an accident."

"Just like your act of thievery was an accident, I suppose?"

Lowering his gaze, the boy inhaled while his stomach churned.

"It was an error that I won't repeat."

"That is the first thing that you have said which I do believe, boy, because I'm going to see to it that you never forget this lesson for the remainder of your life. I won't have a thief for a son, so you had better get that through your thick skull and change your habits."

The vicar looked the boy up and down before demanding, "Remove your clothing."

With shaking fingers, Carlisle struggled with the fasteners on his shirt and breeches until he finally succeeded in freeing them to slip his clothing off. There he stood before his father in just his undergarments with his head bowed, shivering from cold and fear.

"Those as well," the man demanded with an eye to the lad's undergarments. "I will teach you humility, Carlisle if it's the last thing I do. Now strip."

Obediently, the child pulled his shirt over his head, but found it much harder to part with his underpants.

"Take them off."

"I can't."

"If I have to take them off of you, you won't be getting them back and each second you delay adds to the duration of your whipping. Now do it, boy!"

The fair-haired youth's face flushed a brilliant red as he slid the last strip of protective clothing down his slender legs before snatching it up from the floor to hold in front of him while he stared at the ground.

His father slapped his son's hands, causing Carlisle to drop the thin fabric, before he barked loudly, "Go lean on the table. You know this by now. I shouldn't have to continue to tell you every little thing."

The child quickly padded over to the broad dining table and placed his hand flat against the stained, worn surface, grateful for the chance to hide his nakedness.

The jingling of harness hardware brought a chill to the youth that had nothing to do with the coolness of the room against his bare skin. Turning his head to lay his cheek against the supportive surface, Carlisle closed his eyes and prayed for a holiday miracle that would never come.

The cold brush of chain against his flank caused him to gasp before he regained his self control. Bitting down on his bottom lip, the child stifled what he knew to be a useless plea for mercy. He would accept his fate with as much dignity as a six year old could muster. He had been dishonest and disrespectful. He had coveted what wasn't his to desire. He was black with sin and knew no worst state of being, so as much as he feared punishment, he was grateful that his father still felt him worth enough to try to redeem his soul.

"Do you feel that, Carlisle?"

"Yes, Father," he choked out in a small whispered tone.

"If I find that you've stolen anything ever again, it will be this end of the leather that I'll flay your miserable hide with. I will not suffer a thief beneath my roof. The sooner you learn that, the better. I will break your body if I must in order to save your soul."

The leather end of the narrow lead strap cracked loudly across the child's thin shoulders, momentarily deafening the boy and drawing a strangled cry from his throat. Carlisle's breath came out in rapid huffs as he tried to endure the burst of pain, but the moment it subsided the strap struck again, sending his efforts spiraling out of control.

Without a word to distract his son from the fire searing his skin, the vicar brought the strap down again and again crisscrossing Carlisle's back as he worked his way down the youth's slender frame. Wielding the rolled leather lead like a whip, Cillian struck harder upon reaching the lad's hip, and sent the free end snaking around his son's waist to dig viciously into his soft flesh.

With a high pitched wail, Carlisle instinctively pressed the lower half of his body tightly against the heavy table in an attempt to protect his more delicate body parts from the brutal attack, but there would be no protection for his backside.

Having final worked his way down to the youth's buttocks, Cillian called upon the full force of his strength to paint his son's pale haunches with angry vivid red welts. While he concentrated on driving his displeasure home on the child's defenseless rear and thighs, the vicar finally spoke.

"Will I have to concern myself with thoughts that you will be deposited at my door in disgrace again because of acts of malfeasance?"

While he was unfamiliar with the term his father used, Carlisle answered with a whimper and a shake of the head.

"WORDS, confound you, boy! You will answer the question or I'll whip you until I've successfully loosened that tongue of yours enough to allow you to speak."

"No, Father," Carlisle sobbed as the thin strap was whipped harshly into the tender crease between the under-curves of his bottom cheeks and the tops of his thighs, forcing him to screech in pain.

"You're a disappointment to me, Carlisle, and know that this behavior would have broken your mother's heart. This is no way to repay the people who gave you life."

With a finally blazing stroke branding a streak of fire across his son's bottom, Cillian threw the lead down onto the table before grabbing a handful of his boy's hair to jerk him upright.

Glaring coldly into the child's tear streaked face, the vicar snarled menacingly. "Never! Do you hear me, boy? Never again will this happen. As my child, you have a responsibility to set an example for others to follow. I will _not_ have you lead innocents to hell with you.

If I get so much as a hint that you are considering revisiting your thieving ways, I will have you stripped and publicly horsewhipped to within an inch of your life, before locking you in the stocks like a common criminal. Is that your desire?"

With tears streaming down his cheeks, the boy sniffled loudly while shaking his head from side to side before whimpering a quiet, "Please, Father. No."

* * *

The room was plunged into a shocked silence as the patriarch ceased to speak.

"Fuck," came a deep whispered voice.

"Emmett, please curb that out of respect for the holiday at the very least," Carlisle corrected in a mild tone.

"I'm sorry, Pops, but... I knew that your old man was mean, but... Damn."

Carlisle had edited out parts of his memory, giving his family an abridged version of what had occurred, but apparently he had still said too much.

"I broke the law, Em. I deserved to be punished."

"Maybe, but you didn't deserve that. There is nothing that you could have ever done that could justify being treated the way your father treated you. You were just a little boy," Rose vehemently declared while her eyes reflected the sadness that she felt for her father's plight. "You were still learning right from wrong. He should have given you love and guidance, but instead that monster abused you. The thought of him makes me feel physically sick. I'm sure there was a perfect spot in hell just for him."

"Damn straight! Where's child protection when you need them?"

Carlisle gave his burly son a slight smile before reaching over to brush his daughter's cheek tenderly.

"It was a long time ago. Things were vastly different back then. I was basically my father's property; no different than his horse or hounds. He could do whatever he wanted with me, and no one would question him."

"That's barbaric."

"It was the only way of life that we knew, Kitty. My case was not so unique for the times. It was just how our lives were, but you're right, it was abuse. Thankfully we have become more enlightened, and I like to believe that there will come a time when no child has to suffer through anything like that."

"Would he have gone through with whipping you publicly?" Alice asked in the faintest of whispers.

Drawing in a lungful of air, the patriarch nodded while regret shone across his features.

"He fulfilled that promise several times during my more rebellious teen years. I was only stripped of my shirt, but I was still humiliated, and my back was laid open by a horse whip."

"It's amazing that you survived, let alone turned into the wonderful, caring man that I married," Esme noted while hugging Carlisle close.

"True love has amazing healing properties for the body and soul," he replied with a soft smile as he leaned down to claim her lips with a tender kiss. "All the trials of my youth were worth it if they earned me the blessings of my beautiful wife and loving children."

"Carlisle, I'm confused about something."

"What's that, Edward?"

"I've seen that cane in some of your other memories."

"That doesn't surprise me, though I doubt that they were memories I openly shared." He cocked a brow and gave his eldest a critical look before softly sighing.

"While my backside was still in a significant amount of pain when Christmas rolled around, I have very fond memories of that holiday season. I might even say, it holds some of my happiest childhood memories."

"How in the heck did that happen?" The soldier inquired with an incredulous expression.

"Remember that my father agreed to offer Mass at Mr. Kerrich's home. Due to our schedule and the legalities that complicated the holiday celebrations, we rarely spent time with the families after services were complete, but the Kerrichs had asked to be the final Mass of the day.

I was exhausted by the time we arrived and found a quiet little out of the way nook to curl up in while my father went about his task. Mrs. Kerrich noticed me and excused herself from the central gathering to sit with me. She gave me a sixpence for working hard assisting my father on a day when all other children were out at play.

Naturally, I refused her generous gift since I knew that my father would disapprove, but she was very insistent. Eventually I gave in and pocketed the coin with a word of thanks.

After the service was complete, Mr. Kerrich asked my father to join his family and friends for their celebratory meal. Out of habit, my father attempted to decline the offer until the master of the house stated that he wished to have a word with me in the next room. Since this was just days after my disgrace, it was reasonable to assume that the gentleman had changed his mind about taking me to task himself. At the very least, both my father and I expected that I would receive the stern dressing down that was still my due."

"Aw, dude, you don't save up the yelling until Christmas. He had to know that you felt bad enough."

Carlisle grinned and shook his head at his bear's interruption.

"He did know, and that's why he wanted to speak with me away from my father's influence.

Once we were alone, he directed my attention to the corner of the room. There, with a bit of ribbon tied around its neck, was the walking stick with its missing eye restored."

* * *

"Sir, I don't understand. I'm happy that you were able to have your stick repaired, but what does this have to do with me?"

"That, young Cullen, is the brother of my cane, and it just happens to belong to you. You said that it was meant to be your father's gift, so now it is."

The child's blue eyes were huge as he searched the man's face for some sign of jest. Finding only honesty evident, Carlisle shook his head.

"I'm grateful for your thoughtfulness, but I can't accept your kind offer. My father...," the boy began then faltered. "I just can't. If I can't pay for something, I shouldn't expect to be able to gift it."

"But you can pay for it. I was expecting you to purchase that walking stick from me."

"I haven't any money," the lad sadly admitted as he glanced away from the temptation in the corner.

"Don't fib to me, Carlisle Cullen. Is that not a sixpence in your pocket, young man?" Mr. Kerrich asked with a twinkling in his eye.

Carlisle sank his hand into the pocket of his tattered coat and wrapped his fingers around the small silver disc. Pulling it out, he turned the sixpence over before looking back at the smiling man.

"It cost much more than this."

"It is at a very special sale today only," his host explained as he extended his hand to accept the coin.

For the first time since he had met the boy, Samuel Kerrich watched a brilliant smile blossom across Carlisle's face and reach his sparkling azure eyes.

Dropping the coin in the man's hand, the child raced over to the corner to claim his prize while bombarding Samuel with a deluge of gratitude.

With the walking stick clutched firmly in his fist, Carlisle returned to the man and wrapped his arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.

"This is the best Christmas of my life."

Ruffling the mop of blond hair, Samuel chuckled.

"It started off on a rather bad note, but turned out alright in the end, didn't it?"

"Oh, yes, sir. May I give it to my father now? I mean, would that be alright with you?"

"That's fine with me, lad, but I have one more thing for you before you go partake in the peppermint cream cakes and mince pies."

Untangling himself to step away from the boy, Samuel crossed over to a trunk against the wall. The hinges groaned in protest as he lifted the lid and withdrew something to hold aloft for the youth to see.

"I'm afraid that yours was torn in the scuffle, so I took the liberty of purchasing a new one."

"For me?" The child gazed at the heavy woolen coat in amazed wonderment.

"For you," the man confirmed with a nod. "Try it on, and make sure that it fits correctly."

Helping the youngster out of his ragged coat and into the new one, Samuel couldn't help being infected by the child's overflowing joy.

Wrapped up in the slightly oversized coat, the boy looked up at the man and giggled, causing his benefactor's grin to broaden.

"This is the best gift in the entire world. I'll wear it forever."

"I don't know about that, but at least it will keep you warm and dry for now." Samuel gave Carlisle a friendly pat on the shoulder and watched the joy fade from the child's eyes as he clenched his jaw. "Are you alright, Carlisle?"

"Yes, sir. I'm fine." The boy pulled the coat more tightly around him. "I'm just tired and a little sore. We've been working hard."

The expression of concern never faded from the man's face.

"You know if you need anything you are always welcomed here."

Carlisle's smile was back, but softer this time as he glanced down in embarrassment.

"Thank you, Mr. Kerrich, but you have done far too much already. I can never repay your kindness or thank you enough."

"There is nothing to repay, lad. I would appreciate it more if you would make a habit of showing a little kindness and help others in need as you journey though life. That is worth all the gold in the world and goes hand in hand with being able to forgive those who wrong us out of ignorance. I don't expect you to understand that right now, but eventually you will, and I hope that you'll honor my request."

"I will. I promise," the boy affirmed with a curt nod that left room for no doubt and brought a smile to the man.

"That's a good lad." He ruffled up Carlisle's hair again making the youngster laugh before crouching down next to him. "Now enough of this seriousness. This is a festive time. Let's go have some fun. How about we go give your father his present? Hop on my back, and we'll deliver it in a grand style."

Giggling happily, Carlisle scrambled onto Samuel's back and held the cane aloft like a sword. "This is the most perfect Christmas that there ever could be."

* * *

"So, did your father accept the cane without question?" Esme asked while becoming entranced by the happiness the memory had brought to her husband's features.

Giving a soft sigh he shook his head.

"No. He was suspicious. He believed that I had done something to swindle Mr. Kerrich, but eventually he came to accept the truth. He had that cane until the day he died. It served him well and took down more than a few hooligans on those dark lonely streets at night. In a way, I had been right. It was there to protect him, and I think it offered him comfort after I was reported dead. I like to believe that the memories tied to it helped him feel that a part of me was still with him and that allowed him to move on."

"Why do you care about him at all?"

"Rosalie," Esme scolded in a whisper.

"No. Really. I would like an answer. Is this why you forgave him? Because of a promise that you made to some stranger who gave you a coat?" Rose spat the words with pure hatred.

"Babe," her mate called as he placed a paw against her shoulder, but was swiftly shrugged off.

Carlisle's gaze fell on his daughter, but his mind appeared to be elsewhere. After several tense seconds, he released a held breath while the modern world came back into focus.

"That is a part of it, Kitty, but only a small part. I have forgiven my father because it was the right thing to do. I recognized his shortcomings for what they were; the struggles of a damaged, lonely man attempting to reclaim some semblance of control over his life.

He was hurt so severely by my mother's death that he never fully recovered. He blamed me for his loss."

Rosalie moved to speak, but her father's raised hand stilled her protest.

"I know that was outside of my control, and he did as well, but that knowledge didn't lessen his pain. I don't honestly believe that he hated me. In fact, because I resemble my mother his feelings for me were very likely the complete opposite. What he hated was the fact that I survived while his lifelong love died. Had I died with her, I'm certain he would have grieved for us both, but I didn't so he was stuck with a child that he was woefully unprepared to raise. I can't fault him for that."

"He beat you. _I_ find fault in _that_."

"But..."

"No, Carlisle, there is no defense for abusing a child, and we can all agree with that. None. A child is an innocent life who should know nothing but love and comfort. You should have felt protected by your father, but instead you felt pain and fear because of him. God only knows how you failed to develop some terrible psychosis from all the emotional trauma."

"My upbringing was less than ideal," the elder conceded.

"Less than ideal? It was a nightmare - a living hell."

Ignoring his daughter's statement, Carlisle continued,"But I did feel safe as long as I minded the rules my father set. He treated me no differently than he did the men who worked for him. Because their lives depended on minding the rules, any deviation would be dealt with swiftly, and it would not be uncommon for one of them to feel the sting of a lash across his back. This was my father's point of reference in controlling the people he was responsible for, so it was natural for him to apply the same methods with me."

With a look that pleaded for his daughter to understand, the patriarch drew a fresh breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled quietly.

"Kitty, please try to understand. He thought he was doing right by me. He was trying to keep me safe and raise me to be a good, honest man. He didn't know that there was a better way to rear a child. His actions were vile, but his intentions were pure."

"With all due respect, Papa," Jasper interrupted, "how many times have you brought to our attention, in no uncertain terms I might add, that the pathway to hell is paved with good intentions?"

"I had good intentions that ended up catching the tablecloth on fire, but my ear still got bent over that," Emmett stated to add his support.

"Your children make an excellent point, my love."

Carlisle nodded faintly as he gave his mate's hand a gentle squeeze.

"They do, but even when their good intentions turn disastrous, I forgive their misdeeds. Should I not be able to extend the same to my father?"

"I don't know about all of that. Forgiveness follows some form of penance, and I don't think that your old man did much repenting," Em added with a pointed look. "I know that my tail has been lit up more times than I can count before I've been granted forgiveness."

"That's not true." All eyes turned toward Edward who had remained quiet though most of his father's story and the subsequent debate. "We have always been forgiven immediately after we screw up. The punishments that follow are mainly to help us forgive ourselves."

Jasper gave a snort while he nodded sagely.

"Right on the money with that observation, Ed."

The bronze haired boy rolled his eyes before clearing his throat to continue.

"We've never had to work for Carlisle's forgiveness. We don't even have to ask for it. It's something that is given freely no matter how royally we screw things up."

"Well I don't think..."

Rosalie's rant was cut off by a hug from her husband that forced the air out of her body in a mighty huff.

"I've got that same problem sometimes, Babe, but Pops did just get me thinking."

Grinning at the elder, the buff youth shook his head.

"A coat was the best present in your world? Man, Pops, how dull was England back in the day? You obviously missed out on the good stuff entirely. Let me give you the lowdown on the world's best Christmas present that ever was created — a Remington over-and-under break-action sixteen-gauge shotgun.

There is nothing sweeter than seeing that long narrow box propped up by the tree with a big red bow and you name all over it. That right there is a boy's best friend."

Emmett's eyes glazed over as his mind drifted back to the vision of his first shotgun— shiny, new and all his.

"Ah, the smell of gun oil on Christmas morning. You just can't beat that with a stick."

"I have to disagree, Em."

The dreamy expression morphed into a look of confusion that he shot in Jasper's direction.

"You don't like the scent of gun oil?"

"Love it," the Texan drawled. "But a bolt action .270 Winchester long range rifle tops a shotgun any day."

"In your dreams, soldier boy."

"She is the stuff dreams are made of."

Emmett cocked a brow as he snorted his disapproval. "With the right load a shotgun can do anything a rifle can do, but it would do it better."

"Could not and would not."

"Could so and would so."

"Alright, _bear bait_, prove it."

"I don't need to prove it."

"That's because you can't, nor can you down a galloping antelope at three hundred yards with some sissy shotgun."

"Antelope don't gallop," Emmett smugly commented.

"Well they do something, and your short range piece of crap ain't gonna stop 'em."

"Oh yeah, well you can't shoot a duck with a rifle."

"I have."

"Liar. There's no way you could do that."

"I did so shoot a duck. It was paddling along in the stock pond at the time, but I sure as hell killed the damn thing."

"You know, Jazzman, there's only one way to resolve this argument," Emmett purred as he tented his fingers together and grinned.

"Absolutely not, Emmett!" Carlisle and Esme declared at the same time.

"Aw, but it's Christmas. Have a heart, Momma. It's not like we could really hurt anything. And you, Pops, don't you have a hunter spirit that longs to heft up a blue steel beauty and drop a goose from the softly illuminated sky at the break of dawn?"

"Emmett, I will not have a gun in this house," Esme stated firmly while she scowled at her burly baby.

"Momma bear, be reasonable. We're not going to hurt each other or anything of that nature. We're indestructible."

"Ralphy, you'll shoot your eye out," Edward smirked, then dodged the balled up advertisement that whizzed past his head and nearly toppled the accent lamp.

"That's why there are no guns allowed. The potential for accidents is far too great. I realize that a bullet will glance off without harming you, sweetheart, but where it ends up after that is anyone's guess."

"We would be careful."

"Emmett, your mother is right," Carlisle replied softly. "How long do you think it would be before a window fell victim to a stray shot? One of the cars could be damaged or, God forbid, some misguided hiker might find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'll go through a safety course if you want. I can be responsible. Give me the chance to show you that I can."

"Sorry, Emmy, but the answer remains 'no'," Esme said in a tone that conveyed the strength of her conviction. "A house full of vampires is dangerous enough without adding high-powered weaponry."

Jasper hummed a little tune slightly off-key as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Did you have something that you wanted to add, Major?"

"No, ma'am. I was just thinking that you wouldn't take kindly to knowing about Ol' Betsy all snug and safe under my mattress."

"What?"

"Just joking, Momma." The southerner grinned before adding in a whisper," I keep her in the back of the closet."

Esme narrowed her rapidly darkening eyes at her son.

"Seriously, Momma, you have nothing to worry about. She hasn't hurt anyone... In over a century at the very least."

"That's not the point, Jasper."

"Of course it is," Emmet quickly assigned himself to the task of being his brother's champion. "What other point can there be? That proves that the gun isn't dangerous. A gun is no different than any other tool. In careless hands even something as harmless as a fork has been known to kill."

Edward raised a brow as he contemplated the bruin's statement for several minutes in mute wonder before curiosity got the better of him.

"When has a fork ever killed anyone?"

"My cousin Frank died from a fork injury. He tripped while setting the dining-room table and stabbed himself in the arm. The wound got infected, and he died from blood poisoning.

I'm not saying that it's not a rare occurrence, but it does happen. You might as well say that Frank was forked to death."

Edward groaned and rubbed his forehead while chuckles and giggles came from the rest of the family.

"What?" Emmett inquired as he glanced at his loved ones with a dumbfounded expression. "I swear that it's the truth, and there's nothing funny about it. My uncle Ted told me that story as a warning the same year that he gave me my very first shotgun for Christmas."

The muscular Cullen took center stage as he sat up in his seat. Rarely had Emmett ever looked so serious, and his family responded by giving him their undivided attention.

"My dad had passed that spring leaving me to be the man of the house since my older brothers had already gone out on their own. As you can imagine, I was still a bit wild and reckless, but I did my best to provide for my family.

My dad's guns proved to be a bit too powerful for me, and I ended up on the ground more often than the critters I was trying to bring home. I'm pretty sure we would have starved had it not been for my uncle donating food to us, but by Christmastime he decided that it was well past time for me to step up and do my part. He bought me a third or fourth hand sixteen gauge and took me out to get a deer for our holiday meal."

Emmett's story was cut short by a gasp from his pixie sister.

"Emmy, you didn't really go out to kill Rudolph, did you?" she asked with a tinge of sadness in her voice.

"Well yeah, Ali, but I never saw a deer with a red nose so I was more likely to kill Blitzen or something like that."

"That's awful."

Jasper cleared his throat while brushing a hand through his wife's dark spiky hair.

"Hummingbird, we hunt deer all the time and that doesn't bother you."

"We don't hunt them during Christmas."

"I'm sure flying deer are bulletproof, darlin'. I wouldn't worry too much."

Alice reluctantly nodded before settling back in the crook of her mate's arm with a pout on her lips.

"Al, you know that Santa isn't..."

"I know that, Edward, but it still seems really wrong." Turning bright amber eyes on her big brother, Alice muttered, "I'm sorry, Emmy. I didn't mean to interrupt you. Please go on."

"I had never shot a deer before. Even when dad and I went hunting it was for squirrel, possum, rabbit or coon. We targeted small game since large animals were harder to come by, and if by some chance a deer crossed our path, it was my dad who shot it. He didn't want to risk losing or injuring it if I ended up getting off a bad shot. Because of that, I was more than a little surprised and overly excited by my uncle's suggestion."

**AN:** Glad that you all are enjoying the little holiday distraction. Thanks so much for all the comments, adds, favorites and just support in general. Naturally, you guys are the best.

Special thanks to my guest beta on this one, edwardian1901. Always wonderful to have an extra set of eyes who is willing to take on the challenge.


	3. Christmas Memories - Emmett

"Go get in a few practice shots before we head out."

"I don't need to practice, Uncle Ted. I'm a crack shot. There ain't a critter in these woods that stands a chance with me gunnin' for him," the young teen declared with a cocky grin. "Ain't nothing going to get by me now."

"That gun is new to you, and you need to pattern it before you take it out."

"The shot is going to spread. It's not like I'll be able to miss, and I'm ready to go now."

"You're not going anywhere if you can't do as you're told. A good hunter always takes time to know his weapon, Emmett. Only a fool would go out in the woods with an untried gun. Your daddy didn't raise a fool, did he?"

"No, Uncle, he didn't," the youth grumbled to himself and kicked at the ground, but made no move to comply.

"Hm." The large man with the coal black hair and shocking green eyes rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe I need to take that back until you're old enough to treat it with the respect it deserves. A child can't be trusted with a weapon."

"I'm not a child," Emmett groused. "I'm the man of the house."

"Couldn't prove it by me."

With a loud huff, the boy stomped off towards the shed at the far edge of their property where several permanent targets stood.

As he ran a hand over the shot - peppered plywood boards, tears welled up in Emmett's pale blue eyes. He hadn't been back here since his father's death. The happy memories they had created over some cold drinks, long talks and a stack of bulls-eyes were now painful to recall. The youth didn't like feeling like that. His grief made him feel weak and small — two conditions no one had ever accused Emmett McCarty of being.

Wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand, the young man growled inwardly.

"Crying is for sissies, and you ain't no sissy. You better learn to toughen up if you're ever gonna make anything of yourself," he berated, while pinning a fresh sheet of paper to the board. "Now stop being such a pansy and do your damn job. Your Pop would have expected better, and now it's you who your family is counting on, so act like a damn man."

Several shells later, the woodsman in the making ambled back towards his uncle with his gun over his arm.

"It clusters a bit more on the left. I played with the choke, but it looks like I'll just have to make some corrections with my aim."

The older man dipped his head to acknowledge that he had heard and understood the youngster, before slapping Emmett hard on the back.

"That's a bit more like it, nephew. Now let's see if we can't round up a good deer. I saw some fairly fresh tracks a few miles north. We'll start there."

Climbing into the aging pickup truck, the boy slammed the door and leaned his elbow on the window.

As the engine roared to life, Emmett's heart skipped a beat before he glanced over at his uncle.

"I ain't ever got a deer."

"We'll fix that today — God willin'."

"Dad didn't think I was a good enough shot," the boy muttered while turning his attention to the scenery passing by. "I know I could have put one down if I only got the chance, but what if he was right? What then?"

The man knew his brother and the faith he had always put in his son. Even though the youngster was a bit of a troublemaker, his father had never missed an opportunity to brag about the boy's accomplishments. Emmett had taken to hunting, fishing and surviving like a duck to water. The man had been convinced that there was nothing that his son couldn't do once he set his mind to it, and Ted found himself agreeing.

"He knew that you were a great shot, boy. Don't be selling yourself short."

"Then why wouldn't he let me shoot one?"

"The time probably wasn't right until now."

"How could the time not be right as long as we needed to put meat on the table?"

"Deer are a different sort of critter than you are used to hunting. You have to build up to them. You don't just take a deer's life, it has to give it up to you. They're soulful creatures like us, Emmett. When you have one in your sights, and you're lookin' in its eyes — well, that's when you'll understand."

Emmett cocked a brow as he gazed over at his uncle then shook his head.

"That's crazy talk."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Emmett's mind began to wander as the truck bucked along the rutted road. It should have been his father to take him on his first true deer hunt. It should have been his father to give him his first 'real' gun. On what should have been the happiest day of his young life, the boy felt his spirits begin to sink.

"What are ya thinking about?" the man finally asked while easing the truck over to the roadside.

"Nothing. Just wondering if we'll get lucky. I've seen tracks all over, but never got so much as a glimpse of what was making 'em."

"I have a feeling that you'll get more than a glimpse this time."

Climbing out, the boy rubbed his hands briskly together and blew on them to drive off the chill.

"There's some gloves in the box."

"I'm good." Emmett grabbed up his gun and looked around to get his bearings. "Smells like snow."

The man agreed with a nod while gathering his own weapon, then tipped his head towards a little worn path through the trees.

"I'm of the mind that we'll have a few good hours before the weather turns. There's a blind down that way waiting on us. Now, keep quiet and follow in my tracks. Won't do to be spooking the entire woods."

Being out in the forest with his uncle rekindled old memories. The vision of a boy a little too tall for his age trailing along behind his father as they ran a trapline played in his head and brought a tear to his eye, but the thrill of the hunt prevented such memories from overpowering the youth. Every little movement in the trees, every subtle sound from the breeze rattling the leaves to the plunk of a falling acorn fueled his imagination and made him feel truly alive.

Rounding a bend, Em and his uncle quickly stopped at their destination. It was an old graying weather beaten plywood box nestled high in the fork of an ancient gnarled oak whose mast of acorns had just recently dropped and now lay scattered around its base.

His uncle jabbed him in his ribs to gain his attention and whispered,"That there is pure gold. Your dad and I both took our first deer in that stand and now you will, too. Let's go."

Avoiding crunching the acorns underfoot made picking their way around the tree a very slow process, but eventually Emmett stood at the base, looking up at the tacked on bits of board that served as their ladder.

Ted took the gun from his nephew and secured it to a dangle cord.

"Climb on up. Once you're in you can haul your gun up. I'll come up after."

The wide spaced boards were set to the reach of his uncle's or father's long legs. While Em was tall, he hadn't exactly caught up to the adults in his family and could tell that the climb was going to be problematic.

Grabbing the second rung, he pulled his body up until his knees rested on the first board, then tucked his feet under himself to stand before reaching up to the next rung. Using this method, Em inched his way up the tree until he was sitting on the floor of the stand, hauling his gun up.

It took his uncle much less time to conquer the tree fortress and claim a spot on the low bench that ran the length of the box. Patting the space next to him, he encouraged Emmett to sit down. The young boy gazed out at the forest opening up before him in pure amazement.

"I can see everything from here."

"Just keep your eyes open for a deer since that's what we're looking for, though I wouldn't sneeze at getting a shot at a bear."

"A bear?" He turned to his uncle in awe.

"Yep. Your dad wasn't much into bear meat, but if you fix 'em right, they are downright tasty and that hide can turn a tidy profit."

"I don't think I could shoot a bear unless I was defending myself."

"Might not, but I bet if you got a taste of one, that would be about all you would want to eat."

Passing the boy a bottled drink from his jacket pocket, the adult scanned the forest floor.

"These acorns are like candy to deer. They just can't resist them, and I haven't hunted this spot in months so they shouldn't be too wary, but they are jumpy critters by nature."

"I'd be jumpy too if everybody was trying to eat me."

Ted chuckled and knocked his shoulder into his nephew's to jostle the boy playfully before quietly turning his attention back to the task at hand.

Several hours passed and the youth was beginning to get antsy. More than a few times, Ted had to stop Emmett from shooting a squirrel or the rabbit that hopped beneath the spreading canopy of the tree.

"At least I would have killed a buck, and we could have had rabbit stew," the boy sulked as he leaned against the railing with an annoyed huff.

"That is not the type of buck we're after. Besides, you can have stew any time of the year. Christmas should be a grander meal."

"And what if we get skunked? What sorta Christmas dinner is that gonna ..."

Emmett suddenly hushed as a loud grunt echoed from the bushes below.

Ted glanced over at his nephew, noting the stiff posture and slight tremor that coursed through him. The man grinned knowingly as Emmett fell to the first rush of buck fever.

Giving the boy a light prod to gain his attention, the man silently mouthed the word 'breathe', which was followed by a puff of breath from the youth.

"Is it a deer? Sounds like a pig. It could be a pig. Do you think it's a pig?"

The older man shushed the boy and motioned for him to keep his eyes on the underbrush.

Slowly, a patch of brownish gray began to separate itself from the foliage. A flash of fur here, a thin spindly leg there, until the deer finally stepped out into the open and glanced around nervously, her tail flickering as she tested the breeze.

Emmett had helped butcher many deer over the years, but this one was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen. The dappled sunlight caused her sleek hide to glow, and her eyes were the softest chocolate brown that he had ever known. All the boy wanted to do at that moment was reach out and stroke her smooth shiny coat as she took those few cautious steps towards the tree.

While the deer dipped her nose to the ground, Ted motioned for Emmett to take his shot, but the boy was too transfixed by the animal's beauty to respond.

A light thump to the back of the head broke the doe's spell, and Emmett finally looked over at his uncle.

'Now', the man mouthed while shouldering his own shotgun in case a follow up shot was needed.

Holding his breath, Emmett placed the butt of the stock against his shoulder and carefully sighted in his target. Releasing the trapped air from his lungs, he gradually increased the pressure against the trigger, but before he could pull it, the doe's head snapped up to gaze at the strange creature in the tree.

Predator and prey made eye contact a second before the loud report of the gun destroyed the peaceful scene.

With her flag clamped tightly against her rump, the doe took a bounding leap and crashed through the brush as she disappeared from view.

Emmett looked down at the gun in his hands and groaned.

"I missed. I should have listened to you and practiced a little longer before we came out here. Now I've completely ruined any chance we had at having venison for dinner," he muttered with regret while bowing his head in shame. He had let his family down. He had failed them, himself, and the memory of his father.

Ted settled back against the wall of the blind and rolled himself a cigarette. Taking a few drags, he finally looked over at his crestfallen nephew and quietly replied, "I don't think you've done a bad job at all. The shot went a little wide, but I believe that wound will be fatal."

Much like the deer had done moments before, Emmett's head snapped up and he stared uncomprehendingly into his uncle's eyes, begging the man to elaborate.

"She hunched up. Might have been more of a gut shot than vitals, but it will still put her down. Give her a little time to bed and then we'll go look for her. Let me finish my smoke and we'll go track her."

"But she ran away. It didn't look like she was hurt at all."

"Adrenalin will keep a body going for a spell. She just didn't realize that she was dead. That can take a little bit of time."

Emmett stared at his uncle in utter confusion, but waited in silence while the man finished his cigarette. Finally after what seemed like hours to the boy, Ted rose to his feet and carefully lowered his gun before climbing down from the tree.

The youth didn't have to be told to follow and soon was back on the ground, cradling his gun in his arms.

"There's some bright red frothy blood over here, Emmett, " the man stated plainly while scanning the leaf litter for more signs. "Looks like it was a good clean shot after all."

"Really?"

"Yep. Now let's go get her and bring her back home."

Following the path of broken flora and sprinklings of blood, the two located the fallen doe within minutes.

Emmett stared at the sight before him and felt a chill run through his body as he gazed into the deer's lifeless eyes. This was far from the first time that he had killed an animal, but for some reason the feeling was different. He was happy to have supplied his family with food, but he felt a hint of guilt creeping into his chest for so easily taking the life of the majestic creature.

A hardy slap on the back jarred him out of his contemplation.

"She's a beauty. You did a great job, kid," his uncle beamed as he touched the deer's eye with the barrel of his gun.

A frown creased Emmett's forehead as he tossed the man an angry look for the perceived disrespect he was showing the animal.

"Don't do that!" He knocked the gun totting arm away.

Ted responded to his nephew's outburst with confusion.

"What's wrong with you, boy? I'm just trying to make sure that she's dead. Dead deer have been known to jump up and do serious damage to the unwary hunter."

"Well, you don't have to poke at her like that. It's not right. Is that how you treated my dad when you found him? Did you poke a stick in his eye?"

"Your dad?"

"Yeah, my dad," the youth bowed up to the bigger man, injustice fueling his bravado. "Does death mean nothing to anyone? My father died, but they just jabbed him a bit and then dropped him in the ground. That's it. Done, buried and forgotten, like his dying didn't make a damn bit of difference to anybody. Well it makes a difference to me."

Hot, angry tears streamed down the boy's face as his turned his back to the man.

"Emmett. Son."

"I'm not your son. My father is dead. He left me when I needed him. He should have been the one to take me to kill my first deer, but he's gone and no one cares."

The months of bottled up emotions came bubbling to the surface as Emmett knelt down next to the doe and closed the large brown eye that stared accusingly up at him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the animal. "I'm sorry that I destroyed your family and made your fawn an orphan."

"Her babies are all grown up, Emmett. They didn't need her anymore."

"Then they are a spot better off than me."

"You know your dad is still here with you, don't you? That stubborn old cuss would never up and leave you. He is watching over you right now, and I'm willing to stake money that he's busting with pride. I can just about see him up in heaven stopping any angel that walks by so he can point out his boy bringing home the bacon for his family to have Christmas dinner. He has always been proud of you, Emmet, and rightfully so."

"Do you really think so?"

"No, boy, I _know_ so. You've no idea how often he bragged about you. He wasn't all that sure about your choice in friends, but that still never caused him to worry about you. He knows that you've got a good head and heart and that will see you through all the rough times."

"You mean he _knew_," the boy corrected in a low tone as he sniffled and tried to stop his tears — suddenly embarrassed by his emotional outburst.

"I mean exactly what I said. He knows, and you would be wise to keep that in mind. If I were you, I would work to keep making him proud because you will see him again one of these days and it would be a shame if he had to kick your ass from one cloud to another."

Emmett smiled weakly as he brushed his remaining tears away. Marveling at his kill, the boy ran a hand along the sleek muscular neck, stopping to pluck a tick and crush it between his fingers.

"Wish my first had been a buck. Dad would have been more impressed with that," he uttered quietly.

"Doe eats just as good. Can't tell the difference in the pot." Ted placed his hand on the boy's head and ruffled the thick dark curls. "You can't eat horns. Remember that."

"No, you can't, but they look nice on the wall and hold a lot of memories that can be shared. Kinda like pictures, but better."

"And those things can get lost really easily over time, but you know what doesn't? This right here." The man lightly tapped the youth's temple. "That's where you keep all the important moments in life safe and secure. That deer is going to remain a part of you, just like your dad will, because you will keep them alive right there in your mind."

"I don't know about that, Uncle Ted. Buck thinks that I lost that some time back."

"Nah, it just went off wandering for a spell, but it always comes back home eventually."

The man chuckled at his nephew's pained groan.

"Alright, enough of that for now. Let's dress her out so we can get her home to your ma, then she can work her magic with that old oven. Oh, and here." Ted tossed the boy an old faded flour sack before instructing,"Don't forget to bag the heart. You've earned that. Can't think of the last time anyone got their first deer with such a clean shot on their very first trip. You did really good, boy. Now we just have to make sure that you get the first piece of that heart when it's fried up."

Having never been particularly fond of organ meat, Emmett cringed at the thought.

Noticing his nephew's reaction, Ted grinned. "Your pa and I had to eat a strip of heart from our firsts raw, so you should consider yourself lucky."

"That's just gross." The youth made a face and shook his head in disgust.

"It keeps the spirit with you. Just like your dad, that deer will be watching over you now. She'll be making sure that you do right by her kin, so keep that in mind. As long as you respect the lives you take and don't take more than you need, she'll make you a better hunter. You just have to listen to her. Do what she tells you and you can't go wrong."

"For all the benefits, eating heart is no less disgusting. It's tough and bloody and just nasty," Emmett said as he scrunched up his nose,, causing his uncle to laugh while setting to work, field dressing the deer with the help of a boy who had just taken one step closer to becoming a man.

* * *

"Damn, Emmett, the heart really is one of the best parts. Slice it, fry it up, and then stew it in some onion gravy. That's mighty hard to beat; well at least it used to be," Jasper shared with a wistful look on his face.

"Appears to have been an acquired taste that I never acquired."

"Hm," Alice contemplated softly. "I wonder if that deer spirit is still hanging around with you."

"Pretty sure she is, and if that's the case, she has sure learned how to kick some serious ass over the last hundred years. Probably the only old doe to take on a bear and win," he beamed as he flexed his muscular arms, making his family laugh. "What? It's true and you all know it."

"Doesn't anyone have happy memories of Christmas?" Rosalie pondered out loud.

"That _was_ a happy memory, babe."

"Then you did a great job of hiding that fact, Emmy. You killed something and ended up grieving for your father because of it."

"Yeah, but I had a great new gun to replace my old .22, and I got my very first deer all on the same day. That's a rare thing. It's like winning the lottery only better since money doesn't taste very good on the table. Plus, the experience brought me and my uncle closer.

It was a great Christmas. When you consider that it was my first one after losing my dad — Well, Rosie, that's even more remarkable. Makes it all stick out in my mind as real special."

Emmett sank back into the cushions while his carefree expression returned.

"We roasted a haunch just like the Whos of Whoville with their roast beast. Mom made candied yams, greens, fresh rolls, pecan pie — We only ate like that during the holidays."

"Heart?" Edward helpfully reminded his brother.

"Nah, that was breakfast the next morning," the Cullen bear cub answered with a shudder. "Heart and eggs. Yuck. Was only too happy to push most of that off on the rest of the fam after that first bite. Luckily, I was able to chase it with a left over piece of pecan pie, and that makes everything better."

"My mom always went all out with the catering at Christmas," Rose injected while her mate became so deeply lost in his memory that he drooled a little on her arm. Wiping the venom spittle on his shirt, she gave Emmett's hand a light slap to bring him back to reality before continuing with bright eyes.

"Some men would deliver and set up the tree on Christmas Eve. It would be so tall that it would barely fit in the living room even with the vaulted ceilings, and they would absolutely cover it in tiny rainbow colored lights."

"Did you string popcorn to hang on it?"

"Um, no, Emmy. The hired men did all the decorating, and they would come back after Christmas to take it down."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"It was fun just to be able to sit in the living room and enjoy the beautiful tree."

"Sounds boring to me," her mate commented with a snort. "Did you at least get to hang peppermint canes or gingerbread men on it?"

Rosalie sighed and shook her head.

"We didn't add anything to it, honey. Daddy paid the men to do all the work so we could just enjoy the results after they were done."

"You missed out on a lot of fun, babe. And to think, you thought my story was sad."

Rose rolled her eyes.

"Mom would also have the food delivered. There would be goose, ham and turkey, chestnut stuffing, sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows and brown sugared pecans. Several types of soup and a big salad would take their place at the beginning of the table, and cranberry relish in a crystal dish was always nestled next to the gravy boat. Glazed carrots, peas, brussel sprouts..."

"Eww! Tiny cabbages? Never could stomach those. Might as well serve them up with deer heart."

"... It was a real feast for the senses."

"What did it sound like?" Edward asked with a smirk.

"Huh?"

"If all of the senses are feasting, then the food must have made some sort of noise."

Rose narrowed her eyes at her mind reading brother.

"There was always music accompanying dinner. Sometimes mother would hire a harpist, but usually we would just turn on the player piano with some Christmas music."

"You had a player piano?" Alice asked with an excited squeak. "Those were so neat. You were lucky, Rose."

"My Uncle Pete would play the banjo sometimes to keep us entertained. In later years, we got a radio and were really excited to have it since they were still pretty new. They didn't come very cheap," Emmett said as he gave a nod. "But I'm really happy that you grew up with a lot of great stuff, babe. You deserved all the happiness you could get, but you left out a little happiness. You had to have had desserts in that spread."

Rosalie giggled at her eternally boyish mate.

"Of course we did, Em. Cookies, cake, English pudding, pumpkin pie, chocolate coins, and maple sugar candy. Just about anything imaginable."

"Wow." The bruin's eyes were huge as his mind conjured up a vision of what all that must have looked like and found himself grateful that his lavished wife had fallen in love with such a simple boy.

"How large was your family, Rose?" Jasper inquired.

"It was just my parents, my two younger brothers, and me, but people who my father worked with always stopped by and we would throw huge parties on Christmas Eve. It was at one of those parties that I was first kissed by a boy."

Emmett bristled while the words still hung in the air, causing Rose to rub his arm to sooth her savage beast.

"He couldn't compare to you in any way, Em. He was just a young inexperienced boy, but I have to admit that for a young inexperienced girl, it was exciting."

"What was he like, Rose?" Alice overflowed with curiosity as she bounced on the edge of her seat.

"He was very sweet. Paul Baylord was his name, and his father, Stan, worked in an adjacent office to my father. They were a bit more friendly than just co-workers, so it wasn't uncommon for the Baylords to join us for dinner or spend an evening at our house playing cards with my parents. Paul would often accompany them, which was fine by me. You see, I had a little bit of a school girl crush on him.

Dark brown hair with red highlights when the sun hit it and rich chocolate brown eyes. He was two years older than me, which made him seem so much more mature. He was a little bit shorter, but he could hold his own in a fight, which was a good thing since he was picked on for being so book smart."

Emmett's face fell as he listened to his wife relate the positive qualities of his early competition.

_Bet he couldn't wrestle with a bear and win, _he mentally griped "Didn't know that you went for brainiacs."

Rosalie laughed before leaning over to kiss her bear's smooth, cool cheek.

"Of course I like my men smart, Em. I picked you, didn't I?"

Edward coughed violently, earning a disapproving look from his father.

"Sorry," the youthful mind reader muttered as he cleared his throat. "Dry spot."

Ignoring Edward, Emmett brightened noticeably.

"I am pretty smart, and you have to admit that I come up with some awesome ideas."

"That blow up in our faces," Jasper quipped.

"Not all the time," the bruin countered.

"Just 99.999 percent of the time."

"You love it and you know it. You wouldn't be able to stand the boredom what would set in if I wasn't around to liven things up for you," Emmett grinned.

"I'm willing to take..."

"Jasper Cullen, do not finish that statement," Esme scolded, causing the Major to bow his head as his expression turned sheepish.

"Sorry, Momma. Em knows that I was just joshin' him. Didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah, Momma bear, he didn't mean it," Emmett confirmed. "It's just his insecurities showing because he knows that he needs me around. Poor Jazz can't help not being as bad ass as me."

"Oh really?" the soldier scoffed as he raised a questioning brow.

"Boys, I said that's enough."

Carlisle coughed softly and gave both boys a warning look that they were very familiar with.

"Mind your mother and give Rose the same consideration that she shows all of you."

"Well, that's not very much."

"Edward."

Though quietly spoken, the boy's name served as a firm rebuke that caused him to glance away from his father's authoritative glare.

Once certain of his son's compliance, the elder looked to his beautiful blond daughter with an encouraging smile.

"Please go on, Kitty. So, you were smitten with this young Baylord fellow?"

"He intrigued me. I attended a private all girls school, and he went to our partnered boy's school, so I would see him at events that brought our schools together.

Since I already knew him through my father, I would seek him out to sit with at sporting events, assemblies, and once I even managed to get him to dance with me."

"I wouldn't think that would have been difficult, sweetheart," Esme said with a heartwarming smile. "I'm certain boys were falling all over themselves for a chance just to talk to you."

The matriarch indulged herself in a silent giggle when she noticed Emmett's arm tighten around his wife's waist at the mere mentions of other men. Like the rest of her family, Emmett could be a little over protective at times, but at least Esme knew that her daughter would never come to any harm as long as her mate was at her side.

"But most boys just viewed me as some sort of status symbol while Paul seemed to like me for who I was. The only problem being that he was terribly shy, and it really wasn't proper behavior for the lady to make the first move."

"That's one thing I can be grateful for having change over time," Jasper whispered in Alice's ear, making her giggle.

"I decided that it was well past time that I have a kiss stolen by a boy, so, knowing that the Baylords would be attending our Christmas party, I went into action.

My mother would have evergreen garland and holly hanging everywhere. It would decorate the mantle and add a festive flair to the banister, but we never had a kissing ball. I don't know why that was always overlooked. Maybe since the people invited were couples, my mother just didn't see the need. I, on the other hand, became obsessed with adding this very important item to our decorations."

* * *

**AN:** And y'all just thought that Em's love of bear came from having been mauled by one. *grin*I probably could have run Emmy's and Rose's stories together, but wanted to give Rose her own turn.

Thanks for continuing to follow along. You guys are the best of the best.

Thanks to my wonderful beta, Splinter, and the gracious Jasper1863Hale. Don't know what I did without you, chick.

Oh, and for those who are concerned about "Dark Justice", I'm working on an update right now. Jazz is doing a bit of hemming and hawing while trying to talk to Esme, but we'll have something for y'all soon.


	4. Christmas Memories - Rosalie

"I'm telling you, go talk to Elizabeth Miller. I heard that she bought some off of Melissa Johnson the other day. You know how desperately Lizzy is trying to catch Derek Pittman. I've heard that she has been hanging mistletoe everywhere he walks, and then she hides and waits. So far he's been lucky. He got into a fight last week and he's been serving detention after classes. That's made him late on his way home, and has helped him avoid Lizzy's traps, but you _know_ it's only a matter of time."

"I wouldn't call having to serve detention lucky."

"It is when it saves you from the love starved."

Both girls broke down into a fit of giggles before turning their attention to the cups of steaming tea that sat before them.

After taking a sip, Vera thoughtfully hummed to herself.

"It's not like you're one to _need_ mistletoe, Rose. I can't understand why you are even bothering with it. All the boys already follow you like a pack of lovesick puppies without the least bit of prompting."

"Vee, I've already told you, I'm just trying to help with the decorations this year. We have everything already set up, but for some reason the mistletoe was overlooked. I hate to break with tradition like that, so I figured I would get it myself."

"Don't your parents have someone to do that for them? Aren't you worried about messing up the hard work that has already gone into your holiday decorations? I know that I would be. My parents would kill me if I did something that upset the balance of reds to greens to whites or such nonsense."

"I'm just hanging a little extra greenery. Where is the harm in that? I fail to see how it can mess anything up when it blends right in with the rest of the garland, swags and bouquets. It's just a cute little tuft of mistletoe, after all."

"Well, it's poisonous. Maybe that's why they didn't order it. It might be considered too hazardous. Did you consider that? What if your brothers got into it?"

"And how often do we eat our decorations?" Rosalie inquired in an exasperated tone. "Really, Vee. Holly is toxic also, but it's all around the house. We even have a huge bush planted in the yard. I would be much more concerned about my brothers thinking that the bright red berries were candy, but so far they have proven to be wiser than that. Plus, not only is it poisonous, but the leaves can draw blood very easily. Over all, it is a much more dangerous plant to have around than a quaint little bunch of mistletoe."

"Then..maybe your parents just don't want you kissing boys," Vera suggested with a smirk as she eyed her friend over the rim of her cup.

"Don't be silly. I'm a young woman who can kiss whomever she pleases," Rose confidently stated with a defiant flip of her hair.

"And whom does it please you to kiss, Miss Hale?"

"That is none of your business. A lady doesn't kiss and tell."

"Uh huh. Well, I still think that your parents don't want to see you smooching with anyone. Didn't your dad just recently chase Fred Wilcosky off your property?"

"Freddy was making a nuisance of himself. He deserved it."

"All I'm saying is to be careful. If your daddy took after Fred for just being on your lawn, imagine what he will do if he catches you kissing on a boy. He sure won't be happy if you ended up with a little bundle of joy and make him a grandpa so soon."

"Vera, you can't get pregnant from a single kiss."

"Kissing leads to other things. It always starts out as a simple kiss and then suddenly you're up to your eyes in dirty diapers, or find yourself sent off to a nunnery. Hm. I can just see it now. Sister Hale in her pristine black and white habit. I'm sure that you would make a most fetching penguin."

"My parents would never send me away." Rose gasped at the mere mention of such a thing, before her normal cool exterior returned. "Not that I would ever give them a reason to consider such a thing anyway."

"Just wanting to make sure that you keep these things in mind and don't get carried away."

Rose sighed as she put her cup down and stared off into space – a dreamy look clouding her eyes.

"I can't wait to fall in love and start a family of my own. It must be wonderful to be a mother."

"Just don't start that family right now. You can have your pick of boys, so make sure that you choose the right one. The rest of your life is a long time to get stuck with Mister Wrong and his team of snotty-nosed little brats."

"As long as you follow your heart, you can't go wrong, Vera."

"Uh huh. Just remember that you have to kiss a lot of toads before you find that prince you're dreaming about."

"That's why I need some mistletoe. I have to get started now, or I'll turn around and find myself an old maid."

"Ah applesauce! Rosalie Hale, you are the least likely woman on this planet to end up an old maid. You're the cat's pajamas and you know it. You haven't got a thing to worry about." Vera thought for a moment before asking in a whisper, "Really, who is it that has you all balled up like this? You know I can keep a secret."

"No one in particular. I just want to be ready if Mister Right shows up at the Christmas party. A girl can't be too prepared when it comes to this kind of thing."

"Oh sure, spur of the moment kisses are the bane of all womendom. How ever did our ancestors survive without proper planning?"

Vera laughed as Rose flicked a bit of tea at her, then stilled while glancing past her friend at the tall, raven haired girl who had just walked into the common room.

"Look at what the cat dragged in. There's the answer to your troubles."

Rose turned in her seat and easily spotted Melissa Johnston among the group gathered near the door. She was not a woman to be trifled with, and both girls knew it. Rumor had it that Melissa had been transferred to Glenwood after putting one of the instructors from her old school in the hospital for giving her a poor mark on an essay. Most girls, Rose included, gave her a wide berth unless they needed something special that only she could obtain.

Melissa maintained a little business, supplying her classmates with hard to find luxury items. The boarders at the school made up the majority of her clientele, but on occasion, even some of the town girls would throw a little business her way. Rose had never had the desire to be included in that number, nor generally did she have a reason to seek out Melissa's services, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Rose offered a warm smile as she waved to the dark haired girl who glowered at her from across the room. The invitation caused Melissa to cock a suspicious brow at the blond, but she accepted and made her way across the room. Everyone knew that the banker's daughter never wanted for anything, so the youthful business woman grew wary as she approached the two chattering girls.

"What do you want, Hale? Chipped a nail and the store was out of your brand of nail paint? Well don't look at me to have it for you. I don't stock crap."

"No, Melissa, it's nothing like that, but I have heard through the plaid grapevine that you were able to supply a certain holiday item that I find myself in need of."

"Panther piss?"

"Um, no." Rosalie wrinkled her nose up at the very idea of drinking the cheap homemade whiskey that the common teens seemed to enjoy. "No spirits needed, I assure you. What I find myself in need of is a small sprig of mistletoe."

For several seconds, the girl's face remained an unreadable mask before she gave a snort of laughter, causing Rose to frown.

"Mistletoe? You slay me, Hale. Why would a hotsy-totsy like you _need _mistletoe?"

"It's a personal reason, but I assure you that I'm completely serious. This is a dire emergency, Melissa, and I would appreciate it if it was treated as such."

"Bad news for you, Jane. My supply for the year has dried up, but I'm sure an egg like yourself shouldn't have a problem getting some somewhere. Just go check around the trees and pick yourself a mess of it. It ain't that hard to do."

"I'm sure it isn't, which is why I just know that you can come by a bit more," Rose pressed. "I'll pay whatever you ask and a little extra for your trouble."

"You really must be desperate for the goods."

"You have no idea."

The girl stared intently at the blond before finally nodding.

"Yeah, I can get you some, but you'll have to go with me, and it won't be until the afternoon on Christmas Eve."

"Why so late?" Rosalie asked with mild annoyance.

"Cause I have other things to do, is why. That's the only day I can squeeze you in. Take it or leave it. Either way, it makes no difference to me."

Realizing that her options were terribly limited, Rosalie begrudgingly agreed to the girl's time schedule.

"Ducky. Then meet me in Oak Ridge at four in the afternoon," Melissa directed.

"Wait. The cemetery?"

"Yep, that's where the stuff grows."

"You're pulling my leg, right? It has to grow somewhere else."

"It does, but the old oak in the back of the boneyard is an easy climber and has a ton of the green you're looking for."

"I have to climb a tree?" Rose gasped in shock.

"As if her royal highness even could," the girl remarked snidely. "No, Hale, you'll be the look out. Old man Blanchard doesn't like people meddling around in there. He's already run me off twice this year. I need you to keep your peepers peeled and let me know that the jig is up at the first sign of that old bird so I can get a head start."

"I can do that."

"I should hope so. I'll meet you at the gate. If you're late, the deal is off. I've got better things to do with my time than wait on you."

"Oh, I'll be there, Melissa. You can count on that."

The girl gave a short snicker before walking off without so much as a 'goodbye'.

Vera turned to her friend and gawked.

"Have you lost your mind? She doesn't like you, Rose. You do remember that? She might just be looking to leave you in the graveyard permanently. You can't go out there alone."

"Don't be silly, Vee. She's nothing but a bully. As long as I don't back down, she won't have the guts to do a thing. On top of that, we're meeting on Christmas Eve. Even bullies take a holiday every once in a while."

* * *

"Did she try to hurt you, Rosie? Do you think she's still kicking out there somewhere? You know I'll gladly go pull her plug if she laid a hand on you."

Rose rubbed her bearish husband's arm as a soft smile formed on her lips.

"She never even threatened me, Em. Of course, Vera was right in believing that Melissa didn't like me, but that was only because she envied me. It was a common reaction that I learned to endure. I did have the best of everything, after all, while she had to struggle for anything she got. That made her bitter, but it's just part of human nature."

"Well... She's lucky. That's all I'm saying."

Rose laughed and gave her protective mate a kiss.

"She really wasn't all that bad, Emmy. She wasn't all that good, but still she was good on her word and helped me out."

"So she got you the mistletoe?" Alice asked as her eyes glittered in the firelight.

"In a round about way," Rose replied with a smirk. "We met at the cemetery as planned. Since it was so close to the time for the party, I was already dressed to the nines. Melissa didn't have tree climbing plans for me, so I figured putting on my party dress would save valuable time, but little did I know..."

"Deb, do you ever think practical?"

"I was being very practical," Rose responded with a dismissive flip of her hair. "I need to be ready for a party in a couple of hours, and this outing is interfering with my plans enough already."

"Excuse me, Priss, but I'm not the one all stuck on some guy that she can't live without her kissing weed."

"I am not stuck on anyone. This is needed to complete the look of our house and nothing more."

"What kind of sap do you take me for? The only reason a tomato is going to be out here when she could be warming up with a cup of java or a shot of the good stuff is because she's trying to get her mitts on some sheik. I hope he's worth the trouble, Hale. I really do."

"Let's just get this business over with, please. I still have some things to take care of at home."

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch. Come on. It's back this way."

Melissa led the way between the dilapidated headstones towards the far rear corner of the cemetery where a twisted ancient oak bowed it's heavy branches low to the ground.

"If you see anyone, you better sing and then run like hell. You got it?"

"I've got it."

Rose leaned her back against the pebbly bark while the other girl made quick work of hauling herself up into the lower limbs.

"I need to get higher. Is it still clear?"

"I haven't said anything, have I? Of course it's clear. Just go. I can't wait to get out of here. It's creepy."

"Afraid of the ghost of Christmas past, Hale, or is it that future specter of things to come that has you tied up in knots?"

Melissa snapped off a dead branch and reached down towards Rose to tickle the hair at the back of her neck.

Slapping the branch away, the blond growled low. "Would you stop goofing? We should have been gone by now."

"Patience, Hale. The higher up you go, the more dangerous it gets, but that's where the mistletoe likes it best."

"Hey!" A man's voice called out in the distance.

"It's Mr. Blanchard. We have to go."

"I've almost got it," came Melissa's reply as she swung the branch up at the knot of green in the upper limbs.

"There's no time. We've got to get out of here."

"Shit!" The girl glanced out across the yard to see the man closing in fast. "Get going, Hale. Every woman for herself. Run!"

Shinnying down as fast as she could, Melissa caused a rain of leaves, dirt, and debris to fall on Rosalie before she was able to leap free from her perch.

"Get the hell out of here, I said."

"But my mistletoe," Rose cried as she shuffled around in the leaf litter and debris that had fallen from the tree in hopes of spotting the bright green leaves that she so desperately desired.

"There's always next year to trap your bird. Now go. You won't like it if Blanchard catches us."

The dark haired girl shoved the blond in one direction while she took off running hard in the other. Too stunned to move, Rosalie watched with growing fear as the man came ever closer. Finally, when he was almost upon her, she managed to convince her legs to come back to life and sped away.

In her hasty retreat, Rose failed to notice a sunken headstone which sent her sprawling across the muddy ground. Tears flooded her eyes as pain shot through her leg, but she knew that she had to keep moving. Scrambling to her feet, she continued on in spite of the burning sensation in her scraped knee. The young girl assured herself that there would be time enough to clean the wound once she was far away from that horrible place and safe back in the comfort of her home.

Never stopping to look back, the blond ran hard all the way to her house as if the devil himself was chasing her. At that moment in time, she wasn't sure Mr. Blanchard didn't fit that profile perfectly.

Gasping for breath, she let herself into the front door and slammed it closed behind her. Leaning back, Rose closed her eyes as she fought to calm her racing heart and cool her burning lungs, but the thundering pulse in her ears was suddenly drowned out by her mother's shrill reprimand.

"Rosalie Lillian Hale, what on earth? Do you know what time it is? Just look at the state of your clothes. March yourself upstairs this instant and clean yourself up so that you're presentable. The guests have already begun arriving, and I won't have them see you like this."

"Yes, Mother," Rose answered as she kept her vivid violet eyes closed while her head bowed in shame.

"Hurry yourself up and then join us in the sitting room."

The click of heels against the marble floor signaled her mother's departure and made Rose sigh, but then another voice broke the stillness.

"Rose, are you okay?"

Immediately, the girl's eyes flew open as she stared in horror at the young man standing a few feet away in the hall.

Seeing the shocked expression on her face, Paul Baylord nervously glanced down at the floor.

"I didn't mean to intrude, but I heard your mother, and I was afraid that something had happened to you. Is there anything that I can do to help?"

"Goodness no, Paul, but it's very nice of you to offer. I'm just sorry that you had to see me like this. I must look a fright."

"You always look lovely."

"And you are either blind or overly kind, Mr. Baylord. I am a total train wreck."

"You're bleeding." The boy knelt down while withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket and tried to carefully brush some of the grime away.

Rose hissed as the rough fabric touched her knee, but held back the tears of pain and humiliation that threatened to fall.

"I'll be fine. It's just a little scrape from me being clumsy. I'll go right up and clean it, then I'll be good as new."

"At least allow me to help you up the stairs."

With her knee beginning to stiffen, Rosalie reluctantly allowed the young man to support her as they slowly ascended the stairway.

Steering Rose into the bathroom, Paul sat her down on the edge of the tub before turning back to run some warm water in the sink. Dampening his handkerchief, he returned to her side and gently cleaned all of the dirt and debris from her wound before looking up into her brilliant eyes.

"You're right. It's not serious, but you still should go a little easy on it. Dancing is probably out for tonight, so you'll just have to owe me the first one once you're back on your feet."

Rosalie's cheeks flushed bright red, dulled only by the smears of mud that covered her face.

"I might be okay after I bathe."

The boy glanced into her eyes for a moment then gave her a slight smile. "We'll see how you feel later, but I don't mind running a tab."

The girl giggled softly then froze as her young man pressed the damp cloth against her cheek to wipe away the dirt before leaning in to kiss her gently.

Wide-eyed, she stared at the boy and then began to stutter as he stepped away.

"Paul, I.. I don't know..."

"Sorry, Rose. I just had to. It's tradition."

"What do you mean?"

He shyly glanced down at his feet while stuffing the soiled square of fabric back in his pocket. With his head still lowered, he raised his eyes to meet hers and quietly replied, "You're sitting under mistletoe."

"What? Where?"

Rosalie looked up at the blank ceiling then back to the young man who gestured to her hair.

Reaching up into the tangled mess, she combed her fingers through her hair liberating dirt, leaves and twigs to land on the white tiled floor. There in the middle of the dried leaves lay a stalk of bright green sporting thick leaves and a couple of shimmering white berries.

Lowering her head, the girl covered her face with her hand as her shoulders began to shake.

Alarmed, the youth returned to her side and placed a comforting hand on her back.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I didn't mean to upset or offend you. Please forgive me."

Raising her head, the slightly less beautiful blond laughed quietly.

"There is nothing to forgive, Paul. When we are old and gray, I will have a funny story to tell you, but for now, let me get cleaned up and I'll meet you downstairs for that dance."

Still clearly confused, the young man nodded before taking his leave after once more checking that his friend was physically safe, even if he _was_ a bit unsure of her mental stability.

* * *

"It ended up being a wonderful and very memorable Christmas," Rose added with a warm grin. "I had Paul put the mistletoe in my kissing ball and we hung it by the door. All of the couples took advantage of it, and in the years that followed, my mother always made sure to include one in our decorations."

"Did you dance with your beau?" Alice prodded for more details while Jasper wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from bouncing off the edge of the cushion.

"I don't know if you could really call it dancing, but we did go a few spins around the dance floor. My leg was hurting pretty badly, but I was determined to enjoy myself. Paul could tell that I was pushing it, so he made me sit out the rest of the evening, but he stayed and kept me company.

"We just sat and talked the night away. When the party ended and I walked Paul out, I finally got a real Christmas kiss, and it was absolutely perfect."

"I just love happy endings." Alice squealed with delight. "All Christmas stories should be like that."

"Well, I think most of our Christmas stories do have happy endings even if they don't seem all too happy along the way, hummingbird. Sometimes just making the most of being in a tough spot is enough to bring about a happy ending that makes the holiday memorable."

Jasper gave his mate a light poke in the ribs, causing her to giggle and squirm.

"And what sort of tough spot did you get in that makes a specific Christmas stand out in your mind?" Esme inquired as she noted the thoughtful expression on her son's face.

"Oh, this has got to be good," Emmett added with a wide grin as he rubbed his hands together. "It's not often that we get to hear anything about life on the old farm."

"It was a ranch"

"Same thing."

"Actually they are different, brother."

"Whatever," Em responded with an eye roll. "Just tell us one of your tall tales from Texas."

Jasper quite suddenly turned hesitant as he leaned a bit forward with his fingers interlaced, lowering his gaze to the floor. A wary feeling lay heavy in the room while Alice rubbed her husband's back in a gesture of comfort.

Noting his son's changing demeanor, Carlisle tapped his foot against the Major's toe, causing Jasper to look up.

"Son, if you're not comfortable sharing this memory, then don't."

"Aww, man. Come on, Pops. I wanna hear it."

"Emmett."

Edward narrowed his eyes and cocked his head as he studied the silent southerner for several moments before an understanding look took the place of his earlier curiosity.

"Did you even have a Christmas after that?"

Jasper glanced over at his mind reading sibling and sighed.

"Edward, give your brother his privacy. You were not invited into his thoughts," Esme chided.

"Sorry, Jazz."

"It's alright, Edward. I'm just trying to find the right way to tell it, but to answer your question, yes we did. Christmas went on as planned with just a few minor alterations, and it was one for the record books. I would have liked it to have gone a little differently, but in the end, it really was pretty remarkable."

Jasper looked around the room at his loving, non-judgmental family and drew an easy breath.

"I know this doesn't come as a surprise to Momma or Papa, but the rest of y'all probably don't realize that I can be a bit of a challenge to rear. That really has nothing to do with being a vampire. I've always been this way. It's a Whitlock trait."

The youth allowed himself a mischievous grin before he set his focus on his father.

"Mine is a story of firsts as well. There's no first kiss or deer hunt, but I managed a couple of events that weren't just my first, but also my only, and for good reason.

Papa, I hate to have to admit it, but you aren't the only person in this room to know what it's like to sit through Christmas service on a tender tail," Jasper began sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck.

"Now, I have some wonderful memories of the holidays back at the ranch, so don't get me wrong. I can recall my brothers and I playing out in the snow until we were almost frozen solid, then huddling around the wood burning stove, waiting not so patiently while my ma heated up some fresh milk for cocoa. God, was that heavenly. She would top it with homemade marshmallows and a bit of cinnamon as an extra special treat during the holidays."

The soldier sighed wistfully at the memory.

"Of course, there would be hot spiced cider and eggnog, too. Jack and I would pester my pa for a sip from his cup of whiskey spiked nog, but he always told us that we'd have to wait until we were older. He didn't want ma accusing him of putting hair on our chests before our time.

Once when she was outside doing something or another, we wore him down enough to give us a taste, and was it God awful. Jack and I didn't let on though. We knew that we were all grown up since our pa was sharing that adult drink with us." Jasper rolled his eyes and smirked. "If you wanna know the truth, I think Pa was just trying to knock us out so he could get a little peace and quite."

As a handful of memories came flooding back, the southerner smiled and chuckled a bit before settling in to share.


	5. Christmas Memories - Jasper part 1

"We didn't have much cash to spare, so presents were generally homemade, but you would have thought that they were worth a million by the way we carried on.

Jack made me a slingshot one year, and just holding it turned me into this great hunter. I would be tracking man-eaters in Africa and doing them in with just a pebble. When it came to putting food on the table ..." Jasper snorted. "Why that slingshot could take down a ten point buck in a single shot."

"Really?" Emmett joined the conversation, causing much eye rolling among his siblings.

"Well it did do a decent job with squirrels once I got the hang of it," the Major admitted before clearing his throat.

"Anyway, our parents would give us a few toys, and some new clothes that my ma whipped up, but the real excitement came in seeing what Santa had left in the socks that tacked to the fireplace come Christmas morning. Sometimes, if we had been really well behaved, we would find a bag of marbles or jacks, maybe a new ball, but we could always count on a few pieces of penny candy, a couple of handfuls of pecans, and an orange crammed way down in the toe."

"Oh, dude, did you ever get peppermint sticks to go with that orange?" Emmett asked as he licked his lips while his eyes brightened from the revival of a faded memory.

"Sure did."

"Me too. My dad taught me to squish the orange up a bit to make it juicy, then he would poke a hole through the skin with his pocket knife so I could stick the peppermint in and suck the juice out. Mmm. That was some good stuff. It was too bad it only came around once a year."

"That was really good, but the main thing that my brothers and I would be hoping for was the discovery of a bar of chocolate. When we got that lucky, we would share it with the rest of the family. If we found _that_, we knew Santa had to have been extra proud of our angelic behavior."

The bruin snorted explosively.

"Chocolate for Christmas? Shoot, you were livin' large out there on the range. I mean, damn, bro, I was never _that_ good."

"Why does that not surprise me, Emmy?" Rosalie purred, as she ran a hand through her mate's short curly hair before he turned to her with a serious expression.

"That shit was expensive."

"Emmett Dale. Language." Esme reminded with a click of her tongue, but the boy was unfazed by the reprimand.

"It's true, Momma. I probably wouldn't even know what it tasted like if some little chocolate buttons hadn't followed me home from school that one time. I was banned from going into the general store for months after that, and my pop was not happy at all, but it was pretty much worth it."

Edward chuckled at the vision playing out in his brother's head.

"Not funny, Eddie. I suppose you were a perfect child? Never did anything wrong growing up?"

"Hardly, Em, but I wasn't stupid enough to help myself to a store's candy jar at Christmas _while_ the store owner was talking to me."

"It was around Halloween, thank you very much. I would have never done anything like that at Christmas and risk a big red 'x' next to my name on Santa's list. How dumb would you have to be to take a chance like that? Stealing at Christmas time? Please."

Emmett suddenly flashed an apologetic glance towards Carlisle.

"Sorry, Pops. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. You know that I would never consider you..."

"It's okay, Em. You haven't offended me. What I shared with you was far from my most intelligent moment."

"As I was saying at the beginning, Papa isn't the only one to wind up with his butt in a sling for being stupid at Christmas," Jasper reminded his brother. "Even the wisest of us are prone to the occasional silly mistake. At least Papa had a fairly good reason for doing what he done. All he wanted was something nice to surprise his dad with. I sure surprised my dad, but it sure as hell wasn't in a nice way. I ended up catching hell because I was trying to grow up too damn fast."

"That's happened to you before, son," Carlisle commented, while he recalled the story that Jasper shared months ago which set the wheels in motion, leading to tonight's holiday story swap.

"It happened more than I care to recall, Papa. More often than not, if I was in trouble, it was for doing something that I wasn't quite old enough or wise enough to accomplish safely. Sadly, that was the case in point on this particular Christmas Eve when I was eight. Almost didn't make it to see nine.

My parents were throwing a little holiday get together for some of the neighbors. Each year a different family would host the party and that was our year to shine.

Ma had worked hard to get everything clean and polished, while Pa made sure that anything out of sorts was fixed up. He also did the heavy decorating that Ma spruced up after. Pa brought home the biggest tree he could find — biggest one we had _ever_ seen, and set us to decorating it with candles, popcorn strings, pine cones with ribbon hangers, and even a few candy canes and paper snowflakes.

The folks that came brought food to share, while Mr. O'Connell brought his fiddle to play. Naturally some of the men carried spirits with them, and let me tell you, that little item was in no short supply.

People packed our little house until they overflowed onto the porch and into the yard with their dancing and carrying on. It was a lot of fun, but eventually it grew too warm and noisy for my friend Zach and me. We decided to get away from it all, so we slipped off without being noticed and disappeared into the barn.

There we were just lying in the loft, looking out at the crystal clear night sky, when the seed of our mutual destruction began to take root."

* * *

"Dang, Jasper, what'cha think has gotten into Miss Bell? She could barely keep upright, and leaning on the wall didn't seem to be helping much. Ya house have a slant or something?"

"Whiskey, ah reckon."

"Women folk ain't supposed ta partake like that. My pa said so."

"Yeah? Well ya pa be dead wrong. Ma says a nip in the tea keeps ya healthy cause it sweats out the bad stuff. Spirits warm a body and chases off the winter chill."

"Musta been workin alright, cause it be plenty hot in that house — lots of hot bodies."

"Reckon too much is akin to addin' too much wood on the fire all at once. It's nice at first, but real soon ya end up with baked brains, and none can afford that."

"Makes sense," Zach replied as he continued staring up at the stars. "Think Santa will show?"

"Not until everyone gits. Right now it be way too loud. That there would be scarin' the reindeer off. They're just like regular ol' deer. Any loud noise and they spook. That'd be why he can't come until all the bodies under a roof be sleeping."

"Santa needs ta use horses. They ain't so spooky."

"Yep, but they be too heavy ta fly well, and think of the mess they'd make puttin' holes in folks' roofs with all them crash landings. Folks be billin' the North Pole for the repairs. Santa wouldn't get the toys finished with havin' to send his elves out all the time to patch holes." Jasper nodded as he chewed on a stalk of straw. "Deer be lighter anyway, so they get off the ground easier, and don't do near as much damage."

"Didn't think about that."

"Most don't, but it's true."

Jasper thought for a few seconds while rolling the hay around with his tongue before he continued.

"Santa could use goats, I reckon. They don't spook liked deer, and they be light enough. Trouble comes with them eatin' the toys and stuff. You know they eat damn near anything, and God's sake, can you imagine if they got into the chocolate stash? Ya know chocolate ain't good for any living thing 'cept for us. Those goats would be heavin' all over which would slow 'em down. 'Tween that and with 'em eatin' everything, Santa would run out of presents before he ran out of stops."

Zach nodded in response to his friend's flawless logic.

"Guess it be better for him to stick with the deer."

"Reckon so."

A comfortable silence drifted over the boys while they listened to the music and laughter coming from the house.

Finally, Zach's whispered voice interrupted his friend's thoughts.

"Jasper, have ya ever tasted whiskey?"

"Plenty times. Why?"

"Cause my pa has never let me."

"That's cause ya still a little kid. Whiskey's a man's drink and a women folk warmer. It ain't for no kids to be messin' with."

"I'm two months older than you," Zach reminded Jasper with a huff.

"It ain't jest the age on ya. It's in what ya can handle."

"I can handle anything that ya can."

Jasper glanced over at his friend, looking him up and down, then went back to gazing out at the starlit sky as he uttered a confident, "No ya can't."

"Can so!"

"Ya jest keep thinkin' that if it makes ya happy," the blond boy snorted dismissively.

"I'll prove it, Whitlock. I'll prove that I'm jest as much a man as you."

Jasper's gaze slowly returned to his friend while a devilish grin flashed across his face.

"Alright, I'll give ya a chance ta prove yourself. Come on," the youth directed while scurrying to his feet and down the ladder.

"Where ya goin'?" Zach asked as he rushed to catch up.

"Back ta the house."

"What fer?"

Jasper stopped at the barn door and turned to look at his friend.

"Ta see if ya can hold ya liquor. We'll be gittin' us a bottle ta bring back ta the loft so we can have ourselves our own little party."

Zach's eyes became large as he stared unblinkingly at the self assured boy by his side.

"I don't think that's a good idea. What if we git caught?"

"My pa wouldn't think anything of it. I drink all the time, but I can understand if ya don't wanna risk it. Yer pa can git himself wound tighter den a pocket watch over the silliest of things."

"My pa jest don't take kindly ta sneakin' and stealin'."

"It ain't stealin'. Ya can't steal from family. Besides, bottles of spirits be passin' through hands all around. We'd only be takin' our pull from the bottle, same as everyone else."

"It still don't seem right."

Inwardly, Jasper sighed with relief. He had been counting on Zach's common sense to call a halt to his plan before it could come to pass. The idea of drinking straight whiskey nauseated the boy, and the thought of his father possibly finding out caused his stomach to flip-flop even more.

On the outside, however, the fair haired lad shrugged nonchalantly while a soft sigh rode the crest of his exhaled breath.

"I git it. If ya don't wanna, you jest don't wanna. Maybe next year after ya grow up a bit more. Ain't no crime in wantin' ta stay a kid for a spell longer. Being a man ain't easy."

A flickering flame flared in the red headed boy's bright green eyes and bore witness that Jasper had just overplayed his hand.

"What I was gittin' ready ta say was, it don't seem right ta be drinkin' unless ya be smokin' along with it."

"Smo-smokin'?" Jasper stammered as his stomach lurched into his throat.

"Yeah. They go together, right? If ya drink, ya ought ta be puffin' along the way. It helps with the relaxin', or didn't ya know that?"

"Of course I know that, but... Um. Well, you see..." The boy struggled to find a way out of the mess he had just created, then his mind suddenly cleared. "My pa is a pipe man, and he be fresh out of tobacco. Sorry, Zach. We wasn't plannin' on needin' ta share a bowl with company, and our coin all went into the party. Won't have more for a few days when Pa's pay from his last job comes through."

"He got cigars from my pa as his gift. We can partake in one of them."

_Damn._

"And they be the good kind, too. Pa said sumthin' 'bout them bein' rolled on a woman's leg."

Jasper's quizzical expression caused his buddy to shrug.

"I don't know either, but it makes 'em better somehow."

Monroe Whitlock's son forced his breath to slow as he clicked his tongue dismissively.

"Seein' as they were gifted, it ain't right fer us ta be openin' the box. Pa should have the first one."

"He already did. He be sharin' with some of the men folk while we were headin' out."

_Double damn._

Knowing that he was licked, Jasper did the only thing he could think to do; suck in a breath and nod in agreement.

"'Kay, but we'll jest take one ta share. You might not like it, and it won't do ta be wastin' what ain't ours to start with."

Zach quickly agreed before giving Jasper a nudge towards the house.

"Good luck. I'll be waitin' here fer ya ta make it back."

"Like heck ya will. We're in this together," Jasper grumbled as he grabbed the upper arm of his partner in crime and gave him a tug, forcing him to tag along.

Once inside the house, the alcohol was easily acquired, but securing a cigar took more finesse. Eventually Zach had to be deployed as a distraction. The blond had never been more grateful to his friend's rampant curiosity driven questions which had the adults stumped and beginning to argue. As the chaotic debate ensued, Jasper deftly snagged the rolled wonder from its wooden nesting box and quickly disappeared.

It took Zach a good five minutes to finally escape from all of the arguing going on in the house to rejoin his friend back up in the loft.

"Who in the heck were those pagan people anyway?" the boy inquired while he settled down in the hay across from Jasper and grinned at the bottle sitting between them.

"Don't know. Don't care," Jasper replied, as he began to pull at the cork stoppering the whiskey. "I'm just happy that they put their two cents into our holiday. Could you imagine how dull Christmas would be without a tree?"

"Kinda silly really. I mean, where would the presents go?"

"Beats me," the little cowpoke responded just as the cork came free with a loud pop. Looking over at his friend, Jasper grinned in triumph. "Just be grateful that they came around ta stick their noses in our business ta make things better."

Taking a sniff of the vapors that escaped the bottle, Jasper drew back slightly as his eyes began to water. Once again he found himself questioning just how good of an idea this was, but there was no backing out now.

"You gonna drink it, or what?"

"Course I am. You don't rush these things. Don't you know nothing about nothing? It needs ta breathe after having been stuck in that bottle. Once it catches it's breath, then you can drink it."

"It can't breathe. It ain't alive."

"Something in it must be. I heard Mrs. Kay tellin' Ma that the blackberry wine she made last spring needed ta breathe before they could sample it. Stands ta reason that you need ta do the same with whiskey, don't it? They're both spirits, right?"

"Ya think they have a passed on body still hangin' around in 'em. Maybe that's who needs the breathing. Gives sense ta that spirit thing, iffin' that be the case."

"Could be, but that don't seem right. I sure wouldn't wanna be stuck in a bottle waitin' ta be drunk after I'm gone."

"Might be that ya have ta pass on through a live body ta git ta heaven, or maybe it be those who die drunk that gets stuck," the boy offered in explanation.

"Think passin' through a body might send ya in the other direction, but the drunk thing makes some sense."

The boys stared at the bottle in silence for a few moments while the liquor within took on a faint glow thanks to the flickering light from their lantern.

"Has it breathed enough?" Zach asked in the barest of whispers.

"Don't know. Guess it has. Ya want the first pull? Guests first and all."

"Nah. It's your house, so I think the honor should be yours."

Not wanting to give his friend a chance to think of him as a coward, Jasper firmly grasped the bottle by the neck and brought it to his lips. Holding his breath, the boy took a large gulp of the pale brown liquid, then coughed forcibly as it seared his throat.

"Ya okay, Jasper?" the red headed boy anxiously asked as he reached around to slap his host on the back.

Sputtering for a few seconds, Jasper finally managed to gasp out a response.

"Good stuff. Don't get no better. Smooth as honey, that there is."

"Give me some," Zach demanded boldly as he reached for the bottle, but Jasper pulled it back against his chest protectively.

"Ya sure this is what 'cha want? Once ya taste fire water, there's no turnin' back. Think of what ya pa would say if ya git caught."

"Jest give it."

"Your funeral."

The little blond handed over the bottle with a knowing smirk and watched as his buddy took a hearty swig before spitting the foul tasting hooch out on the hay.

"That's God awful," the boy declared while wiping his tongue against the back of his hand in an attempt to kill the taste. "I reckon that be what piss tastes like."

"Nah, ya just little. Ya don't have the _so-fist-toe-kated_ taste buds ya git when ya grown. I knew it was too soon ta try ya on the good stuff. Keep tellin' ya these things can't be rushed."

Jasper reached to take the bottle back, looking forward to stoppering it up and putting an end to this challenge, but Zach held it tight.

"Hell take ya, Whitlock. If ya can drink it, I sure can, too."

Tossing his head back, the boy took a gulp and manged to swallow it before the burning of his throat and stomach made him groan and sputter.

"Yeah," he breathlessly squeaked. "Fine drink."

The bottle was passed back and forth several times. With each round, the burning bitter liquor became more bearable to the boys. The alcohol had numbed their taste buds, while their throats seemed to adjust to the continual rain of fire. Soon they were giggling and carrying over absolutely nothing.

Leaning his back against a hay bale, Jasper stretched his legs out and sighed as he cradled the bottle in the crook of his arm.

"Ain't this the life, Zach? We need to be partakin' more often."

"I think ya right, Jas." The youth glanced over at the cigar lying on the straw where it had been carelessly dropped and forgotten until now. "Say, ready to light up? If whiskey is this good, just imagine what the smoke must be like. Gotta be a reason the Indians make peace over dem pipes."

"Oh, hell yeah. Light 'em up."

Zach grabbed the cigar and stared at it for a moment as he tried to figure out what to do next.

"Ya gotta bite the end off."

"I know, but which end?"

"Not sure," Jasper slurred slightly. "Do both jest fer good measure."

"But the flat end don't look like it needs biting. It done been bit off already, see?"

"Then just bite off the other end," the blond commanded with a roll of his eyes.

Zachariah bit into the end of the cigar and spat the tobacco out onto the straw while a disgusted look flittered across his face.

"Don't git how folks chew this stuff. It's rank."

"Cigar is different from chaw, and besides, it tastes different to grown up taste buds. Think about all the foods they like that you know is jest plum awful. Things taste different once ya grown."

"Maybe I ain't never gonna grow full, cuz I don't sees that I'll ever like that taste."

"You'd be a mite surprised, Zach. I used to say the same about things before I started growin'."

"Yer jest sayin' that. Ya wouldn't like this either."

Zach turned the cigar around several times as he tried to decide which end to light. Finding no real difference, he stuck one end in his mouth before bringing the lantern up to the other. Sucking in a few times like he had seen his daddy do, the youngster managed to get the rolled tobacco smoldering and drew in a mouth full of fragrant smoke before doubling over in a fit of coughing.

"Oh for Pete's. Hand it here. Yer doin' it wrong."

Jasper took the cigar from his green-tinged friend and inhaled deeply. Immediately, his body tried to expel the tainted air, but with his pride on the line, the boy gritted his teeth and fought hard to suppress the cough. His body convulsed a few times and his stomach churned, but with Zach still hanging his head, Jasper felt confident that there was no way his friend would ever know that he found this habit just as repulsive.

Tipping his head back, Jasper blew out the offending smoke and grinned at his well played performance.

"See, ya just ain't big enough yet. Give it time, Zach. Everything grows in its own time. Ya jest got off to a slower start, is all."

Heaving, the red headed boy looked back up at his friend through narrowed eyes as he held out his hand.

Passing the cigar back, Jasper tried to settle his very upset stomach with another swallow of whiskey while he watched his buddy puff on the smoldering stick like a freight train.

Zach swished the smoke around in his mouth a bit then released it in an attempt to make a ring. He was unsuccessful.

"It's not so bad if you don't get it down your throat, but it still tastes nasty."

"It don't work if you don't get a lung full," the young Whitlock scoffed as he took the stogie back. "Here. Let me show you."

Jasper took several puffs before dragging hard on the cigar, making it uncomfortably hot to hold, and succeeded in sickening his stomach all the more. Unable to suppress it any longer, he coughed hard as he felt bile rise up to burn his throat.

"Jasper, you look green. That ain't a good color for you."

Gritting his teeth and tightening his throat, the youth fought for control over his body. He would not cough again, and he sure as hell was not going to vomit. If his pa could smoke, then damn it, so could he.

Inhaling fresh air to replace the stale smokey mess in his chest, Jasper swallowed hard until the nausea passed.

"Jest out of practice, and I wouldn't be quick to judge. Yer green as grass, yerself."

"Maybe we should jest stick with the whiskey."

"Nah, here." He happily handed the cigar back to his friend. "Try again. You'll git the hang of it soon enough. Can't succeed if ya don't try."

As the tip of Zach's fingers touched the cigar, a feminine voice from near the house called out their names.

Both boys were seized by a moment of panic, fearing that they had been caught. In that fateful moment, the burning cigar slipped from their hands to land lightly on the alcohol sprinkled hay. A flash of blue flame from the ignited liquor startled them.

"It's the devil! Did you see that? It were blue," cried Jasper as he hopped back in fright, sending the lantern crashing down to add more fuel to the fire.

"Dang, lookit what ya done," Zach hollered as he stomped at the rapidly spreading fire.

"Look at what I done? Lookit what you started. You dropped the smoke," the blond boy fired back while battling the blaze from his side.

"I didn't drop it. It was in yer hand."

"Cuz I was givin' it ta ya, but yer butter fingers let it slip."

Zach stomped wildly, but the crackling fire was quickly getting out of control. Tears came to the boy's eyes as the warm feeling the liquor had filled him with turned into cold fear.

"We gotta git it out. My pa is gonna whoop me sumthin' awful."

"Yer pa? Mine will be skinnin' me alive. Go git some water fast."

"While his friend raced to the pump, Jasper grabbed up the bottle of whiskey and poured it into the heart of the fire, thinking it would douse the flames. To his horror, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Though it sputtered at first, the fire quickly consumed the alcohol and appeared to burn hotter than before.

Zach returned and tossed the bucket of water at the advancing inferno, but reaped limited positive results.

The boys knew that they were now fighting a losing battle, and they needed to do something that they feared more than the fire itself.

"Zach, go git Pa while I git the stock out. We need help."

With a new flush of fear, the redhead nodded before jumping down from the loft to race out of the barn and across the yard to the scream of "fire!"

Quickly, Jasper opened the stalls, turning the frightened horses loose to tear out of the barn door to safety. Jake, the stubborn old plow mule, took a little more persuading, but in the end he ambled out after the horses.

As the men began to arrive to form a bucket line, Jasper came out of the burning barn, coughing as he led a cow with a potato sack wrapped around her head.

"Are you alright, boy?" Monroe Whitlock shouted as he caught his son by the arm and looked him over.

"Yes, Pa, and everyone's out. I'll go fetch more buckets."

"Good boy, Jasper, but we'll take it from here. Go check in with your ma. She's like ta be worried sick."

"Yes, sir."

With his head low, Jasper made his way back to the house where he was quickly assaulted by his younger brother.

"What happened, Jay?" Nate asked with wide-eyed wonder. "You okay?"

"Fer now," Jasper replied.

"What did ya do?" The eldest of the Whitlock boys asked as he walked up to his brothers.

"Don't wanna talk about it, Jack. It was jest some stupid accident, is all."

"Didn't figure ya done it on purpose, but accident or not, Pa is gonna dust your britches fer ya."

"If I'm lucky, that's all he'll do."

Nate suddenly wrinkled his nose.

"Jasper, what'cha been eatin'? Yer breath could peel paint off the wall."

Jack grabbed his little brother's chin and forced him to look up. The eldest brother stared into Jasper's eyes and clearly did not like what he found.

"Tell me you didn't do what ya done."

Jasper pulled away and glanced down at his booted feet.

"Jasper! Why? Don't you know that Pa is gonna tack your hide to whatever is left of the barn wall? You have done some dumb things, but this tops 'em all."

"Ya think I don't now that, Jack?" the worried youngster snapped.

"What 'cha all talking 'bout?" Nate questioned as he glanced between his brothers.

"Nothin' that be concernin' you, Nate. Jest sumthin' that's between Jay and Pa."

Spying her children, Catherine rushed over and took her smokey, soot covered son in her arms.

"Baby, are you okay? Did you get hurt? What happened, my sweet boy?"

"I don't know, Ma. It all happened so quick. Zach and I were jest talkin' in the loft and goofin' when the lantern took a tumble."

"I just thank God neither of you were hurt."

"But the barn..."

"The barn can be fixed easily enough, but you and Zach are irreplaceable."

Hugging her baby close, Catherine led the way back to the porch where Zach waited with his mother while the others milled around chattering away with excitement. Jasper sat down next to his buddy and gave him a pat on the knee.

"We're alive," he offered quietly.

"Fer how long?"

"Wonderin' that myself," Jasper sighed before training his focus on the ground.

* * *

**AN:** Jasper is up a creek and things aren't looking good for Zach either, but I promise to put them out of their misery as soon as I can.

Thanks for following along and for all the reviews, guys. They keep me fueled, especially right now. The holiday season and working retail puts a real damper on things. *nods*

Thanks to Jasper1863Hale for all her help in getting this up for y'all. *thumbs up*


	6. Christmas Memories - Jasper part 2

In short order, the fire was extinguished, and the men rejoined their families back at the house. When Monroe stepped up to the porch, he found himself flooded with questions. The large man simply held up his hand to silence his wife and brood before speaking.

"From what we can see, the damage isn't all that bad. Gideon and Frank are going to come by after church tomorrow to help me figure out what all I'll need ta fix it, and they agreed to lend a hand in rounding the horses back up."

"Sorry I just let them go like that, Pa."

The big, brawny man placed his hand on the boy's head and ruffled his blond locks.

"You did good just to get them out. We'll find 'em. Don't worry yourself. I'm just grateful that no one was injured. Things could have been a whole lot worse. When it's all said and done, I think we can chalk this one up to a Christmas miracle."

One look at his guilt riddled son, and Monroe called Jasper up from the porch step. Enveloping the youth in his arms, he crushed the boy against his body while running his hard calloused fingers through his son's unruly hair.

"I could have lost you, boy. There ain't nothin' in this world that be worth that."

"I'm sorry, Pa. I never meant to scare ya, and about the barn..."

"Accidents happen, but what have I told ya about lanterns in the loft?"

"They don't belong, or if they be needed, they're to hang on the main post away from the hay and straw."

"Do you understand now, why I told you that?"

"Yes, sah," Jasper muttered into the broad chest.

"Hopefully this has put enough of a fright in ya, so you'll remember to put things where they belong next time."

The boy nodded and breathed a soft sigh, before he heard the other shoe fall in the form of Gideon Casey.

The man stood several feet from the touching scene and cleared his throat.

"Monroe, can I see you over here for just a couple of minutes?"

"Of course, Gid." Kissing the crown of his son's head, the man let Jasper go and followed his neighbor over towards a tree.

Jasper watched the mildly animated conversation, then saw his father tap his toe against something on the ground before the man looked over at him. The clenched jaw was very telling to the youngster who suddenly lowered his gaze.

"Jasper. Come here, son."

His feet felt like lead, but somehow he managed to travel the short distance it took to reach his father.

"Son, care ta explain this?"

Jasper swallowed hard as he looked down at the empty soot coated whiskey bottle and shook his head in response.

"Well you had best rethink that, because this is going to be much harder if you make me have to drag it out of you. Talk, boy. Where did that come from?"

Jasper wanted to answer, but his nausea was back, and the flipping of his stomach made talking more difficult.

"Zachariah, get your tail over here," Gideon demanded gruffly, and his boy scurried over to comply.

"You been drinkin' what you know you ain't supposed to?"

The child began to nod, but the stress of the moment proved to be too much for his system to handle. Zach's small body heaved, and all too soon the evidence of his misdeed was dripping off the toe of Monroe's boot.

"I hope you feel better, boy, because things just went from bad to worse for your back end," his father growled, while taking hold of the redheaded youngster's arm. "Come on. You and I are gonna take a walk behind the barn. We need to have us a little talk. I know I've taught you better, so why you gave into this foolishness, I'll never understand, but I promise that you'll think twice should there come a next time."

"No, Paw. I won't do it again. I didn't even like it. Please, Paw, don't whip me. Not here."

The boy's pleas fell on deaf ears as Gideon continued to march his son to the far side of the barn while beginning to unfasten his belt. A few seconds later, the snap of leather and a high pitched wail filled the night, bringing tears to Jasper's eyes.

"That's on you, boy. I take it this was all your idea?"

"Yes, sah," he finally muttered as he found his voice.

"That didn't belong to you, did it?" the large man asked while rocking the bottle with his toe.

"No, sah."

"What happens when you take it upon yerself to acquire what doesn't belong to you?"

The distance snap of the belt seemed answer enough for Jasper, who bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, but remained silent.

"And how do you think I should deal with you nearly gittin' yerself killed?"

"I don't know, sah."

"I think that you do, Jasper." Sad, soft brown eyes turned up to Monroe and nearly broke his heart, but before he could falter, the man calmly ordered, "Go wait for me in the woodshed, boy."

Knowing better than to argue, Jasper bowed his head and had taken a few steps before his mother placed a hand on his father's arm.

"Monroe, it's Christmas. I know that he deserves a good tanning, but don't you think it can wait?"

"Sorry, Cat, but I think now is the best time to settle accounts. It's best to address it while this is all still fresh in his head. Besides, if I wait, Jasper will think holidays mean he can get away with his mischief."

"I don't think that, Pa."

"Then why did you sneak whiskey from the house to go play drinking games with Zachariah if you weren't thinkin' you would git away with it?"

"We just wanted to be like the rest of the menfolk."

"Then you would have been drinking with the men in the house, but instead you were doing it in hiding."

Monroe ground his teeth, but felt a little of his anger diminish. Releasing a huff of a breath to carry away his pent up frustration and worry, the man crouched down and called for the boy to return. Down on Jasper's level, he looked his son in the eyes and spoke in a gruff, soft tone.

"Boy, don't be in such a rush to grow. You're wishing your life away. Enjoy what you have while you can. It goes by quick enough without you having to hurry it along. Have fun being a young'un, Jasper. You'll be a man soon enough."

Standing back up, Monroe turned his son toward the shed and delivered a firm shot to the seat of his britches.

"Now git. After we settle up, you can say your good nights and git yerself to bed. Ya know that Santa won't come if you're still awake."

"Santa will be taking one look at the barn and load any presents I had coming right back up to give to someone else," the little cowboy stated sadly while rubbing his hindquarters before heading towards the shed.

"I wouldn't be sure about that, son," Monroe commented to himself before turning to his wife. "Weren't you getting ready to cut the cake when the fire distracted us?"

"I was," she answered with a sigh.

"Then don't let us stop you. I'm sorry that I have ta do it, but this is my duty to the boy, Cat. Go on with the party. When he and I are done, he can have a bit of cake if he's up to it, and then I'll put the boys to bed so we can enjoy the rest of the evening."

Reluctantly, the woman nodded while watching her baby wander off to face his doom.

Several minutes later, Monroe entered the shed to find his fair haired son weeping softly with his nose pressed firmly in the corner. A sour smell assaulted the man's senses, and told him that the boy's system had finally purged itself, so now it was just the residual guilt that needed relieving.

Taking a seat on the splitting stump, the man called Jasper out of the corner. With the youth standing before him, he quietly inquired, "How are you feeling, physically?"

"Tired."

Monroe laughed as he brushed some hair out of the boy's face.

"I reckon that anyone in your position would be."

Reaching into the small bucket that he had brought along, the usually stern man pulled out a rag and wrung it out. Wiping his child's face clean, he dipped it back in the water to rinse it, then squeezed out the excess moisture, and laid the fabric across the back of Jasper's neck.

"The coolness will help."

Jasper closed his eyes and tried to relax, but in the darkness his head spun worse. Being fully aware of what was coming knotted his stomach and chased away any comfort he might have taken from his father's kind gesture. Slowly opening his eyes, the boy found his father watching him with a peculiar expression.

"I'm sorry I caused trouble, Pa."

"I know, boy, and I would rather not be doing this right now, but it needs doin'." Cocking his head slightly, he searched the boy's eyes for something before adding, "I wish I was certain you were up for this."

Jasper's pride forced him to stand a little taller while ignoring the pain in his head and stomach.

"I'm good, Pa. I know what I done is wrong, and I be ready to take my medicine. I'll be needin' yer knife, if ya want me to cut ya a switch."

"Not this time, son. I have something else in mind."

Jasper shivered when his father's expression turned serious and his eyes hardened.

"In trying so hard to be a man, you've acted like a naughty little child, Jasper, so I've decided to treat you as such." Reaching into his back pocket, the man withdrew a small wooden item and held it out for his son's inspection.

Jasper's eyes traveled over the old maple wood paddle that bore his name and those of his siblings. It had been years since the paddle had been used, as even Nate had been deemed too old for such things. Jasper himself had probably last felt the paddle when he was four. After that, his disobedience could earn his father's rough hand to his backside, but more often he was bent over the woodpile for a switching, or a taste of the strap if his behavior had been particularly bad. The fact that his father felt the need to dig out the paddle embarrassed Jasper more than anything. If his brothers had seen their pa with that paddle in his pocket, the boy would never survive their teasing.

"Pa, I don't think..."

"Which is the problem, son. You didn't think. You acted like a toddler, and now you'll git what ya earned yerself. Drop those trousers, Jasper, and let's have ya across my knee."

The boy's cheeks flushed as red as his bottom soon would be.

"Pa, ya can use the paddle, but can't I just bend over the woodpile like usual."

"Oh, so you'll be _allowing_ me to use the paddle?" A bushy eyebrow shot up at his child's comment, and he cocked his head to the side.

"I didn't mean it like that, Pa."

"Then how did ya mean it?"

When the boy remained quiet for several seconds, the man pushed harder. "Jasper, drop those trousers now, or I will completely treat you like a two year old, and take 'em down myself."

Jasper's suspenders fell from his shoulders in a blink, and his pants were at his ankles nearly as fast. Standing in his underwear, the youth shivered with dread and embarrassment.

His father firmly gripped his upper arm and pulled Jasper over his knee. Tears driven mostly by embarrassment flooded his eyes, while his father unbuttoned the back flap on his long johns to expose his naughty bottom to the chilly night air.

"Cold, Pa," he whined as a breeze blew through the shed to caress his skin.

"It will be plenty warm soon enough, son. I'll grant ya that."

Jasper cringed when he felt the cold hard wood tap his rear. It had been a long time, but he still knew it's touch and hated it as much now as when he was small.

"List 'em, Jasper."

Swallowing hard, he thought for a moment, but that proved to be a moment too long when the paddle crashed down in the center of his left cheek.

"Owww."

"Trying to make sure you're awake, since I'm still waitin' to begin."

"I took what wasn't mine, was drinkin' ...and smokin'." The last part was added in a barely audible whisper.

"What was that, boy?"

"And smokin', sah."

"Really, now? And just what were you smoking?"

Jasper inhaled while he prepared to speak, but a yelp rang out instead as the paddle stung his right cheek.

"A cigar. One of the ones that Mr. Casey gave ya. We figured they went with the drink, so we kinda helped ourselves to one."

"Well no wonder the two of you looked so green in the face." Monroe thought for a few seconds before shaking his head. "Two counts of stealing in one night. Boy, sitting on that hard church bench tomorrow is going to be a mighty big challenge fer ya. I would hate to be in your shoes right now."

"Yes, sah," he groaned as a tear clinging to his long lashes finally fell, while Jasper thought about how long winded the preacher could be at Christmas.

"Is that it?"

"No, sah. Because of drinkin' and smokin', I wasn't thinkin' right, and ended up catching the barn on fire which could have gotten Zach and me killed."

"And that is completely unacceptable, boy." The paddle came down hard to punctuate each word.

Jasper yelped loudly, then bit his lip to silence himself while the horrible sting quickly took hold.

"Good. Now that you know what you've done wrong, let's see if I can't convince you not to do it again. Time to get started."

With that phrase serving as his warning, the paddle began to fall rapidly on Jasper's defenseless tail, alternating sides and covering each and every inch of uncovered skin. The boy did his best to take the punishment as quietly as possible, but the searing of his flesh had muffled cries slipping out as he began to squirm in an attempt to find relief.

"Settle yerself, boy. There's no need for none of that."

"But it hurts, Pa," Jasper whimpered while kicking his feet.

"It's gonna hurt a whole lot more if ya don't quit," was his father's reply, as he smacked the paddle down on the back of his son's thighs, drawing a loud yelp with each stroke. "Want more like that?"

"Nooooo."

"Then quit yer kickin' and carryin' on."

The paddle sounded like a gun shot each time it made contact with the boy's stinging rump, but suddenly there came a different sound. A crack echoed off the walls of the shed to be followed by a string of swearing coming from Monroe Whitlock himself.

Tossing the broken paddle onto the kindling pile, the man resumed the spanking with just his work-hardened hand. From Jasper's point of view, that was no improvement.

With his father's tireless hand continuing to pepper his backside for what already felt like forever and a day, Jasper found his will to fight rapidly fading. He loathed to be viewed as a child, but when his tears splashed down on the dusty ground, that was exactly what he felt like, and a well chastised one at that. Soft sobs shook his shoulders while the boy sniffled hard in his attempts to breathe.

When his son went limp and gave up the fight against his pain, Monroe slowed his hand and lightened the stinging swats that it delivered.

"Ya gonna make me have to do this again, boy?"

Jasper shook his head and mumbled something that resembled a, "no, sah."

After a couple of sharp reminders placed where Jasper was sure to feel them when he sat down in church the next morning, the big man ended his son's punishment and let the youth cry himself out across his lap. Once Jasper's weeping was reduced to quiet sniffles, his father gently helped him to stand.

The boy hung his head in shame until a knuckle tapped beneath his jaw to make him raise it again.

"I want no repeats of tonight. You got that, boy?"

Rubbing at his swollen red eyes, and wiping his nose with the back of his hand, Jasper simply nodded.

Recovering the rag from where it had fallen to the ground, Monroe dunked it back into the bucket and swished it around before handing it to his son.

"Clean yerself up and get dressed. I'll be waiting outside so we can go back to the house together, then it's off to bed wit ya. It's been a long night, and you and your brothers need to be hittin' the hay."

"Yes, sah," came the whispered response, as the boy took the damp rag and began to wash his face clean of the signs of his disgrace.

"Pa?"

With his hand on the door, Monroe turned to glance back at his boy.

"Yeah, son?"

"Please, don't tell anyone about the paddle, or that it made me cry," Jasper pleaded.

"I don't know what yer talkin' about, Jasper. Ya took your hiding like the brave boy you have always been, but between you and me, I think you'll have a woodworking project to attend to. I seem to be in need of a replacement fer a certain item. See to that, will ya?"

"Yes, sah." The boy gave his father a slight half smile before going back to cleaning his face, missing the man grin as he departed.

* * *

"How in the world does that qualify as a merry Christmas?" Rosalie scoffed while looking at the smug expression on her southern brother's face. "You made yourself sick, nearly got yourself and your friend killed, and then got your behind handed to you by your father. Memorable, I'll give you, but happy?... Sorry, Jazz, but I don't think so."

"Well, it could have been worse." Carlisle's soft tone entered into the conversation. "Thank God someone was watching over you and you weren't harmed, with the exception of your pride. I also can only imagine the guilt that would have come should anything have happened to Zachariah."

Jasper shook his head before meeting his father's gaze.

"I wouldn't have been able to live with it. I know that. I felt some powerful guilt just from being the cause of him getting that whipping. There's no way I would have been able to handle feeling worse."

"Burning down a barn," Emmett chimed in with a large grin across his mug. "That's one that even I haven't done. Nice work, Jazzman. I'd give you a run on the smoking and drinking, but damn. What a way to liven up a party, bro."

"Well, you have blown up a greenhouse, Emmett," Esme reminded with a raised brow. "I still think you are our record holder when it comes to making mischief."

Puffing up with pride, the bruin smiled.

"Just keeping you on your toes, Momma. Don't want you and Pops to feel like you've got nothing to do around here."

"As if that would ever be the case." The matriarch snickered at her playful boy before Edward's gasp caught her attention.

All eyes turned towards the mind reader, whose shaking head was bowed as he snickered to himself. When he finally looked up, it was Jasper's eyes on which he locked.

"Really? After all of that? Your dad must have been..."

Jasper nodded as he softly drawled, "He was a good man — very loving and forgiving. He was hard when he had to be, but just like a turtle, he was still soft inside; at least when it came to his family."

"That's really amazing."

"I thought so, too."

"Care to let the rest of us in on this conversation?" Rose asked with annoyance at being left out of the loop.

"Yes, Jazzy. Finish telling your story," Alice suggested, as she burrowed back under her husband's arm.

"As my lady wishes." The Major smiled down at his personal pixie and sighed. "There really isn't all that much more to tell. Since I didn't want the whole town to know that my daddy had made me cry, I passed on the offer of Christmas cake, and Pa put me straight to bed. My brothers followed shortly after, but I was out like a light and slept hard until morning when my ma got us up for church.

Nate and Jack were naturally excited and looking to get into the presents that Santa had left, but I didn't even want to see what my sock held, since I already knew it would just be filled with switches. I was actually afraid that Santa might have put a paddle in there, which would have been much worse."

Jasper paused as he replayed the memory in his head, before continuing to share.

"Nate brought me my sock anyway, and I was shocked to find some candy, pecans, and a couple of oranges."

"No chocolate?" Emmett inquired.

"Not this year, but Jack had some that he graciously shared with me along with the rest of the family. We each even had some little toys in those socks. Jack had a rubber band gun. Nate ended up with a little wooden top that you started off with a coil of twine, and even yours truly came up with a bag of marbles.

Now the strangest thing in my sock was a couple of lumps of sugar. I thought maybe they would transform into coal or something like that. None of it made a lick of sense anyway. I knew that Santa must have made some mistake, so I wouldn't touch the candy or even the marbles apart from just to look at them. I figured that when we got back from church, all of my presents would have disappeared, since Santa would certainly realize that he left those goodies at the wrong house and take them back. After what I did, I didn't deserve a thing."

* * *

"Alright, boys. That's enough for now. Go get dressed. We have to be leaving for church," Catherine called out over the oh's and ah's coming from near the tree. "You can enjoy your goodies from Santa, and open the rest of the presents when we come back."

"Ma, do ya think I can stand in the back of the church this year?" Jasper asked as he glanced down at his little pink toes, but a hand on his shoulder caused him to look up.

"You'll sit with the rest of the family, like always, Jasper."

His shoulders fell along with his deep sigh and the boy nodded, muttering a sad, "Yes, Pa."

Giving his son's back a pat, Monroe sent Jasper on his way to get washed and dressed while he went out to harness Jake up to the wagon. The big man shook his head while wishing that their team had returned on their own, but at least he had the old mule, thanks to his son, and that sure beat walking.

As the family filed out of the house, Jasper stood next to the wagon with a grim expression on his face. There was no way that his rump was going to survive this, and he knew it. He thought about trying to plea his case, but with his father already shooting down his idea to stand for services, the boy knew that walking would be out of the question as well.

"Get on in, son. Time waits for no man."

"I know, Pa. I was jest..."

"Jest?"

"Nothing," the boy replied as he climbed up into the wagon, but just before he sat down, his younger brother stopped him with a shout from the house.

Nate was running towards the wagon with a pillow and quilt in his hands.

"Jay, Ma said I could give ya these. Figurin' it will be a kinda rough ride after last night, and all. Iffin' it's alright wit ya, Pa."

The littlest Whitlock looked up at their father with large hopeful eyes.

"Of course it's alright, but they stay back in the wagon when we go into church."

"Yes, Pa."

Nate scrambled up into the wagon and placed the quilt wrapped pillow down for Jasper to sit on. Once his brother was as comfortable as he was likely to get, the little one leaned over and whispered in Jasper's ear."Figured a body wouldn't think anything of a quilt being in the wagon on such a cold day like they might ask about a pillow."

The boy grinned at his cleverness in trying to save a bit of his brother's pride. Nate neglected to add that it was all their mother's idea, but then he would have come up with something eventually.

"Thanks for the look out, Nate. You're my sidekick for life."

When Jack climbed in and settled next to his siblings, he passed Jasper a biscuit and mug of hot tea.

"Ya didn't eat nothing. Don't do to have yer stomach growling over the sermon, so eat up."

"Wasn't feeling hungry. Still don't."

"Baby," Catherine called back to Jasper as she took her place next to her husband. "Just try a little. It will make you feel better."

With a sigh, the youngster nodded and began to pick at the biscuit as the wagon lurched forward. By the time they reached church, the biscuit and tea were gone, and Jasper had to admit that he was feeling a little more like himself, but still dreaded the idea of sitting in church.

As the Whitlock family entered the building, Jasper caught sight of Zach sitting between his parents.

"Pa, would it be alright if I check in with Zach?"

Monroe nodded as he patted his boy on the back. "Jest mind that yer back with your butt on that bench before service begins."

"I will be. Just wanna make sure he's okay, and to apologize."

The big man smiled while his boy made his way over to the Casey family.

"Mr. Casey? I'm powerfully sorry about last night's happenings, and was wondering if I could have a word with Zach?"

"That was a mighty foolish stunt, son, but I imagine that your pa set you straight."

"As an arrow. Yes, sah, that he did," Jasper answered while he glanced down at his boots in embarrassment.

Gideon gave his son the okay, and soon both boys stood in the back of the church, talking quietly.

"Zach, I'm sorry that I landed ya in trouble like that."

"Not yer fault, Jasper. I thought it was fun, until it all went down hill, of course. Tell ya sumthin' though. I ain't touchin' a drop of whiskey fer the rest of my days"

"I hear ya. Don't be lookin' ta me ta be smokin', either. There's gotta be other things adults can do for fun."

They talked for several minutes before the conversation came around to Santa.

"So," Jasper inquired in a low whisper. "Did Santa stop at yer house after what we done?"

"Yeah. I thought for sure he'd leave a strap, or something like that, fer Pa to give it to me again, but he left me a real train whistle. It's metal and all."

"Ain't it jest plum weird? I have candy and marbles, but I still expect they will be gone when I git home. I think Santa made a mistake."

"But he checks his list over and over so he don't make mistakes."

"He was already out on his run when we messed up. He probably hadn't gotten the update yet, but I bet once he got back home there was all kinds of messages waiting on him. Wouldn't surprise me none if he's on his way back now to pick everything up, and leave a hickory switch as thick as my pa's thumb in their place."

"Wouldn't that make Santa an Indian giver?"

"Nah. If we didn't deserve presents in the first place, he'd just be fixin' what went wrong. Not like he could help not knowin' that we nearly burned down the town."

"It was jest the loft, Jasper, not the whole dang town."

"Could 'ave spread and done it all in. You know, it's hard to be any worse than that."

After careful consideration Zach had to agree.

"Maybe the whoopin' I got canceled out the bad I done. Could be that way for you, too."

"I never meant for ya to git whooped, Zach. Honest," Jasper clarified again.

"I know. Jest happens sometimes. You know there are times when we git away without gittin' caught, and those other times when we do, we go days without the power to sit. It all evens out in the end."

As the preacher headed towards the front of the church, the boys said their farewells before going back to sit with their families. After what felt like hours shifting on that hard bench, Jasper was able to breathe a sigh of relief that he was finally free.

Running out with his brothers, the boy felt lighter, as if some heavy weight had simply disappeared. He reasoned that had come from finding out that Zach's father hadn't killed him after all, and that Santa still made the rounds of the Casey house. Jasper worried that he had ruined his friend's Christmas, but it was nice to know that some things apparently were Whitlock-proof.

Playfully pushing Jack down so he could climb in the wagon first, Jasper heard his father call out his name. The happiness he had just been feeling vanished like a soap bubble in a brier patch. Turning around, the boy faced his father standing several feet away.

"Let's go for a walk, son. There is something that I wanna talk ta ya about before we head home."

"I was just joshin', Pa. I didn't mean for Jack to fall. Honest."

"That's fine, Jasper, now come on. I'm not gittin' any younger waitin' on you, boy. Let's go."

The three brothers shared a round of worried looks, before the middle sibling shuffled after his father as the man headed back up the road towards town.

"Pa, I didn't mean anythin' by it. I swear."

"I believe you. I'm not lookin' to talk with ya about you pushin' Jack, or about you nodding off in the middle of the sermon."

Jasper's eyes were suddenly glued on the ground in front of his dragging feet.

"Ya saw?"

"I did, and I best not see it happen again," his father warned in a stern voice before taking a relaxed breath.

"Son, last night while you were asleep, I heard a noise in the livingroom. Wantin' a drink anyway, I went to find out who was prowlin' about, and guess who I found warming himself by the fire?"

"I don't know, sah," the boy replied as he continued to hang his head.

"None other than Santa himself."

Stopping short, Jasper's head snapped up as he stared at his father in disbelief.

"Really, Pa? You actually saw Santa?"

"I did, and he and I had a chat over warm milk and cookies. He said that one of my sons had become a very late addition to the naughty list. One guess who that was," Monroe said as he placed a hand on Jasper's back to get him moving along.

"Me," the youth answered sadly.

"Yep, but Santa didn't have all the facts. His report was cut off because of a blizzard near Greenland, so he didn't know that my boy fessed up to his wrongs. I told him about how brave that boy of mine had been, and how he even admitted to doing something wrong that I would have never found out about on my own."

Jasper sighed as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself for comfort.

"And you know what he said ta me?"

"No, sah."

"He said a boy that honest didn't deserve ta be on the naught list. Santa knows that everyone makes mistakes sometimes, Jasper. What decides on how it weighs against that list is what they do about makin' those mistakes right."

"But I didn't make it right, Pa. All I did was mess everything up and give you more work to boot."

"You'll jest have to lend a hand in the fixin'. That would be makin' it right, wouldn't it?"

"Guess so."

"I know it will, but more important than fixing up the actual damage is having enough goodness in you to admit that ya done wrong. That's what impressed ol' Santa Claus so much that he took ya off his naughty list, but he did tell me to warn you that he'll be keepin' a closer eye on you all year. You better be on your best behavior, because he's gonna be a lot harder to impress next year."

Some of the tension had drained from the boy while listening to his father as they walked along. Jasper couldn't believe that Santa decided he had been good enough to have his presents after all. Right there and then, the youth swore to himself that he would do his best to behave all year long to prove that Santa hadn't made a mistake in giving him a second chance. Jasper also swore that he would grow into an honest man, just like his father.

"I'll impress him, Pa. I'll do better than ever. I won't do a thing wrong, or cause any trouble ever again. I swear."

Monroe chuckled as he fluffed his boy's hair.

"No one is expecting miracles, son. Just try ta be mindful of what ya do, and of the consequences when ya do wrong. If ya think first and then act, you'll find yourself makin' less mistakes."

"Yes, sah!"

Jasper had been so caught up in the unexpected praise that he hadn't noticed his father stop at Mr. Perry's stock yard until an old gray mare leaned over the fence to shove her muzzle against his arm.

Rubbing the velvety nose, the boy looked around.

"What're we doing here, Pa? You _are_ gonna be able to find the horses, aren't you?"

"Yep. I wouldn't worry about 'em. Pete and Patsy are most likely down by the creek, living the good life and enjoying their Christmas. We'll find them and the rest a bit later. Mr. Casey and Mr. Richards are gonna help me herd 'em up after lunch."

"Then why..."

"When Santa had gotten that naughty alert, he returned your gift, Jasper. After finding that you deserved it, he didn't have time to go back to pick it up. Since he was running late after our milk and cookie chat, he asked me to do him a favor, then told me where to pick up your present."

"My present?"

"Yep. He's right over there."

Jasper glanced in the direction that his father was pointing to notice Mr. Perry leading a young dark brown colt into a separate pen.

Wide eyes full of questions and excitement flicked from the horse to Monroe.

"He's mine? But, that's ... Pa?"

With a smile on his face, the man gave a little toss of his head while rubbing the back of his neck.

"Don't be asking me. Santa said that he knew you've been asking for a horse for years and had even started trying to save your pennies up for one, so it seems he felt you deserved him."

"I.. I can't... Really? He's really mine? All mine?"

"All yours, Jasper, but you've still gotta lot of work ta do with him. He's halter broke, but that's about it. He's young and green, kinda like his owner, and he'll take training up, but Mr. Perry said that he'll work with you after school to teach ya how to train him. So what 'cha say? Wanna take a closer look?"

"Do I ever!"

"Well git on over there."

The man laughed as his boy stumbled over his own feet while racing across the yard to accept his well deserved Christmas surprise.

* * *

**AN: **Jazzy is not quite an angel, but he's still sweet. I'm starting to really like his family. *nods* Monroe really is pretty rough around the edges, but it appears that the holidays bring out his softer side.

We'll be moving onto Eddie boy. While writing that, I found that I liked his mother. ... the people I have met along the way when writing this piece.

Thanks again to Jasper1863Hale for her support and proofing abilities. .. It is a shame that we speak a different language. ;-)

Thanks for the review, guys. They keep my world turning.


	7. Christmas Memories - Edward part 1

"Dude, that is awesome. Seriously, how cool was your dad?"

"As I said, he was a good man. He was a real family man who would do all that he could for us. My pa wasn't easy, not by a long shot, but he loved us and it showed."

"What did you name your horse, Jazzy?" Alice asked, as curiosity lit up her eyes.

Jasper lowered his head and gave a snort before glancing up at his mate.

"Pa helped me name him. Let me tell you, the old man had a sense of humor, and it pretty much showed through that time. We named the colt Whiskey."

Edward smiled and shook his head while muttering, "Funny."

"I think if he had been a gray, his name would have been Smokey." Jasper laughed at the thought. "That horse became my closest companion. Might as well say he grew to be my best friend. Kept me safe even when he carried me off to war, but he was obedient to a fault. I don't think any other animal would have willingly walked up to a group of vampires like Whiskey did. He had to have been spooked, but you sure as hell couldn't tell it."

"Too bad he wasn't a little smarter."

Jasper's face darkened as he looked over at his brother.

"I'll have you know that he was smart as a whip, Edward. It wasn't his fault that I didn't know danger when I saw it. I asked him to take me to help those women, and like me, he was just following orders."

"Sorry, Jazz. I didn't mean to insult your horse. Just seems that you would have been better off if he had turned tail."

"But I wouldn't have been, Edward," Alice remarked while gently rubbing her mate's back. "Things work the way they do for a reason."

"I know they do, Alice, but not all reasons are good."

"Are you saying that my happiness isn't a good enough reason?" the pixie asked while her topaz eyes darkened with sadness.

"No, Ali, that's not what I'm saying. You should be happy, but the life that Jasper had to survive was horrific. If you really think about it, don't you believe that he would have been better off to have never run into Maria?" The mind reader felt anger from Jasper while tears welled up in his sister's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ali. I didn't mean to upset you. I was just thinking out loud when I shouldn't have been. I'm glad that Jasper is here with us, also. I didn't mean anything by what I said."

A hush fell over the group as Edward, Alice, and Jasper seemed to struggle with their own conflicting feelings.

"A horse for Christmas." Emmet's booming voice broke the tension in the room while he grinned broadly. "That's all kinds of wild. That's even better than a puppy.

You know, one year at Christmas, I got a hound dog pup that grew huge. Biggest damn dog you ever did see. Wouldn't even fit under the porch. He really might as well have been a pony. As it was, some of the smaller kids would take turns riding on him. Duke was as gentle as they come, but he was a fierce hunter. Best tracker out there. He would find the coldest scent trail there was and still be able to follow it to tree a coon.

There's just nothing like hunting with dogs. It's so much fun. You guys really should try it some time. Might even bring Pops back to some memories of happier times chasing foxes around the moors, huh?"

Carlisle smiled slightly as he shook his head.

"Sorry, Em, but the answer is still no. Pets and vampires just don't mix."

"But if they're young enough, they won't know that we're supposed to be hazardous to their health. Just like those predators who adopt a baby from the take out menu for some reason, and end up raising it instead of turning it into lunch. I just watched a show about that on Animal Planet."

"No, bear cub. No puppies. No horses. No guns." Esme ticked off her list on her fingers, but was surprised to see her bruin's eyes brighten.

"That's it, Momma. Prey animals are naturally nervous when we're around, right? That's the reason you and Pops are so against having pets. So what if we adopt a predator baby? I can catch us a bear cub or a cute little mountain lion, though we'd have to keep Eddie away from it. Oh, how about a wolf? That would work, and he would basically be like a dog. We could teach him to play ball, fetch, and all those other things. I'd even make sure to walk him everyday, and give him baths so he doesn't stink up the house."

"Absolutely not," the matriarch stated bluntly, while her husband rubbed his forehead as though he was in pain.

"Emmett, even those creatures fear us. They would be extremely uncomfortable here which would not be fair to them. Then there are the legal issues, not to mention the amount of attention owning a wild animal would bring."

"An alligator," the brawny boy suggested, while completely ignoring the last parts of his father's argument. "They don't seem to be scared of nothing, and I bet I could find some sort of leash for him. Don't think he'd be much good at fetch, but maybe there's something else you can teach a gator. They grunt, don't they? Might be able to teach him to 'speak'."

Carlisle closed his eyes and sighed.

"No pets, Emmett Dale, and that's final. You are free to enjoy the company of wildlife out in nature, but they will have no place in this house."

"In the yard?"

"Say, a herd of penned up deer might not be such a bad idea," Jasper offered with a sly half grin. "Em can have something to pet and play with, while the rest of us can enjoy the convenience of having a snack handy when the munchies set in."

"Jasper, you're not helping," Carlisle responded as his expression darkened.

"But we'd have to clean up after them," Edward remarked with a slight sneer of disgust. "And just think what sort of mess they would make of the garden if they got out."

Esme gasped softly while glancing over at her husband. Carlisle patted her hand gently before shooting his boys an expression that closed the door firmly on pet negotiations.

Emmett, knowing that he had just lost the battle, gave a defeated groan while his mate rubbed his massive shoulders. He had faith that he would eventually win this war, but today was just not going to be that day.

"Better luck next time, Emmy," Alice whispered as she smiled supportively. "I'll try to work on them, too. Maybe between us we can soften them up."

"Mary Alice." Carlisle's warning tone hushed his pixie daughter up while she hid behind her protective mate.

"I don't even understand why you keep pushing for an animal so much, Em," Edward admitted with a shake of his head. "You're going to get bored with taking care of it, and then you'll end up feeling bad when you drain something you knew and loved for lunch."

"You obviously never knew the joy of pet ownership, Eddie. There's nothing like the unconditional love they give. All they ask for is some food and water and the occasional pat on the head, but they give you so much in return. A dog is always happy to see you when you come home at the end of the day. He'll make you think that you're the greatest person on this planet because in his eyes, you are. He doesn't care if the rest of the world thinks you're crap, he loves you anyway, just the way you are."

"But you already have that, Em. You get that sort of love from Esme. Maybe you could ask her to wear a set of ears and a tail to complete the effect, but there isn't a critter on this planet that would be less judgmental or happier to see you when you come home from school than our mom.

Hell, she'll even play ball with you. Just watch out for her wicked fast ball though. That one will get you every time."

Emmett rolled his eyes while Esme giggled softly.

"It ain't the same, Ed. Momma has to love me. I'm her baby bear. A pet loves you because it thinks you're special."

"And I know you're special, Emmy," the matriarch chimed in with a smile.

"A mother's love is completely unconditional, Emmett. She doesn't have to love you, she wants to love you. There is nothing that can compare to that level of affection. This is something that I know for a fact. A mother is loyal to a fault. With the possible exception of a mate, there is no love greater than a mother's for her child."

Catching a stray thought, Edward glanced up into Esme's eyes for a second before the woman lowered her gaze. Seeing this, Carlisle gave his wife's hand a gentle squeeze before smiling softly.

"We had some growing pains, Mom and I, but she never gave up on me. That's why I'm tellin' you, Em, if it's love and loyalty that you're looking for, you must be blind to not see that you already have it."

"Thank you, Edward," Esme whispered, as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

"No, Esme. Thank you for being every bit of a mother to me that my human mother was, and let me just say, she was a very hard act to follow."

Edward smiled, then looked away from Esme as he collected himself. Finally he let his gaze wander over his siblings before he spoke again.

"My mother, Elizabeth Mason, was a phenomenal woman, and she is the cause behind every Christmas memory I have. Actually, if I'm being honest, she's the reason I have any human memories at all. She made sure that I had an extraordinary life. My father was extremely successful in his work, so all of my material needs were met and I had advantages that others only dreamed about, but his work often kept him away from home, so it was my mother who did most of the parenting. She cared for and about me, and she taught me how to love.

I don't know what I did to deserve her, but God truly blessed me for the relatively short time that I had her in my life."

Edward leaned forward with his elbows on his knees while he tented his hands in front of him as his mind wandered over the various memories that came to life at the thought of his mother. Just mentioning her name warmed his heart.

A thought that was not his own played like a short movie clip in his head. A vision of a sick woman ignoring her own failing body to see to her son's needs. Using her last breath to beg a deal from the devil that her son might continue in some fashion of life.

"You're no devil," Edward spoke indirectly to the room, but there was no question to whom the statement was aimed.

"She was a remarkable woman," Carlisle agreed in a quite tone before blocking further thoughts that might be upsetting to his son.

"The Christmas I remember best was the year that I discovered Santa Claus wasn't real."

"How old were you when you stopped believing?" Esme questioned.

"Five."

"Bro, that's way too young. Do you have any idea how many years of elfin presents you missed out on? Damn, I had my family convinced that I still believed well into my early teens. When you've got it good, you have to keep it rolling for as long as you can. You could have capitalized on another four or five years at least."

"Santa still came to my house, Em. I never said anything about knowing the truth because I didn't want to ruin the illusion that my mother worked so hard to create. She looked forward to Christmas just as much, if not more, than I did. She loved all the happiness and wonder that came with the season. Knowing that I already knew the truth would have been a little heart breaking for her, so I kept that fact to myself for a long time."

"At least you were smart enough to do that. Maybe you're a little slicker than I give you credit for, Ed."

"Thank you, Em. Coming from you, that's high praise." The boy rolled his eyes before settling down to tell his story.

"Like I said, my dad's job as an attorney allowed us to live quite comfortably, but on that particular Christmas, the present I wanted most was a little too extravagant for even our household income. To make matters worse, Dad was away, so my mom was at a loss as to what to do.

Usually, Dad would be home on the holidays, but a very high profile case took him out of town, and it looked like he would be gone until after the new year. That was naturally hard on my mother, and I didn't take my father being gone during Christmas very well either.

I missed him. We were never very close, but I was accustomed to him being there at Christmas. It made us feel like a family. I was going to miss the outings and holiday fun we usually had together. I figured that since my father wasn't there, the carriage ride through the park, sightseeing and trips downtown to look at the wonderful displays in the shop windows, and getting hot cocoa from the street vendors would all be canceled. Obviously, I was selling my mother short.

In my father's absence, she worked even harder to make things as normal as possible for me. All those things I feared losing, she made sure we did them all and more. She made it her mission to spend extra time with me. She was always reading to me or playing some sort of silly game, and we would sing. I swear she had the voice of an angel, and I wouldn't be surprised if she's leading one of the choirs up there right now."

Edward fell silent for a moment as he mused on his mother's afterlife, along with his lack thereof, before he gave a short huff of breath and continued.

"I was already showing a talent for music, so Mom made arrangements with one of our neighbors to let me tinker around on his piano. Seeing that I appeared to be gifted, Mr. Ross offered to give me some fairly informal lessons. I was so excited by the idea of actually learning to play that my mother agreed on the spot without regard to price.

She did all of those things to keep me occupied so I wouldn't pine over my father being away at Christmas. I know she must have had some plans of her own, but she pushed them aside solely to keep me busy and entertained."

Edward smiled as his face took on a far away expression.

"I'm not sure what I enjoyed more; the piano lessons or the trips down Main Street. I guess in some ways they worked together to fuel my Christmas dreams. Without the lessons, I would have never known I wanted it, and if we hadn't wandered the shops, I would have never seen it and become obsessed."

* * *

"Edward, come away from there. You're smudging the glass, and you already know how unhappy that makes Mr. Pagano," the young woman called to her son.

"Mother, come look at it," the slender pale boy with the messy bronze hair spoke with wonder. "It's the most beautiful thing in all the world. I just know that Santa will bring it to me. That's the bestest present in all the whole world, and once I have it, I'll never ask for anything else ever again."

Walking over to the enamored child, Elizabeth placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know, baby. It may be sized down, but it's still pretty large. I'm not sure how it would fit down the chimney."

"You can always leave the door open a little on Christmas Eve so Santa knows to come in that way. That would make delivering everything much easier."

"Sweetie, don't you think Santa would have a bit of a problem getting it up the stairs?"

The little tyke looked up at his mother and shook his head.

"Mom, how can you forget Santa's magic? There's nothing that he can't do."

The woman sighed inwardly. There_ may be a few things that escape his abilities, baby._

Elizabeth glanced through the frosted glass at the child size Baby Grand piano. There was no way that her husband's pay was going to be able to put that under the tree this year. Not along with the other gifts and expenses of the holidays, but how does one explain that to a child? No, Edward's faith in holiday miracles, and his belief in a chubby magical elf were far too strong for that. Her son would be crushed on Christmas morning if the instrument hadn't appeared, and that was simply not an option for the loving mother. Where there was a will, God would provide a way.

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we, Edward?" A gloved hand ruffled his unruly hair, causing him to look away from the wonder in the shop window and up at his mother. "In the mean time, young man, I expect that you'll have to be especially well behaved. Santa is always keeping an eye out, and if a certain young man wants something that special, I imagine he'll be watching even closer to make sure it's deserved."

"Oh, I will be, Mother. I'll be the best little boy in all of Chicago, maybe in all the world."

Leading her child away from the window of wonderment, Elizabeth continued down the street. Edward would stop here and there to gawk at decorations and toys in various other shops, but she would always notice him looking back down the street in the direction of the music shop. Her baby's heart was clearly set on that piano, and it broke hers to think that there may actually be something in the world that she could not give him.

When a wind up soldier at a vendor's stand caught the child's eye, Elizabeth gave a sigh of relief. At least that was something that would certainly end up tucked snugly in a stocking.

As they sat down on a park bench to enjoy their cocoa and take a break from the hustle and bustle created by the holiday shoppers rushing along the street, Elizabeth noticed a hand scrawled notice on a post. One of the factories was looking for extra holiday help. 'Earn some extra coin' was written in a bolder hand towards the bottom near the address line of the business.

It was a sign. The good Lord was aiming her towards a solution that would provide for a way to give Edward the present he deserved and the Christmas that she knew he should have.

"Edward, what would you say to visiting with Mrs. Cook tomorrow while Mommy runs some errands?"

"Can't I come? I promise not to get in the way."

"No, baby. This is a grown up sort of thing, and you would be bored by it anyway. I know that you'll have a much nicer time playing with Barkley than you will if you go with me. Maybe Mrs. Cook will take the both of you to the park. You would be doing her a huge favor by helping her walk Barkley and keeping him out of the duck pond."

Edward did love playing fetch with the neighbors labrador, and if he could help keep the animal from chasing the ducks, maybe that would show Santa what a good boy he really was.

With eyes twinkling happily, he nodded in agreement with his mother's plan. It would be fun to have a play day with the neighbor for a change, and certainly his mother would only be gone for a few short hours anyway. When she came to collect him, he would have all sorts of marvelous stories to share about his adventures, and later he would still be able to enjoy time with his favorite playmate of all, his mother.

Sadly, all was not as little Edward had planned. An odd warm spell brought rain instead of snow which canceled all hopes for a park outing. When he awoke to the sounds of thunder and the sight of lightning searing the sky, the boy had been certain that his mother would cancel her plans and stay home with him. Undoubtedly she would rather curl up with a cup of warm tea and read to him from his favorite pirate book. Perhaps they could turn the sitting room into the deck of their very own ship and sail the seven seas with Jim Hawkins in search of buried treasure. That would certainly be much more fun than going out and getting soaked just to go do some boring grown up things.

Those dreams suddenly vanished though as Elizabeth set about getting her little boy washed up and dressed for his visit with the neighbor.

"Mommy, I don't want to go. Can't you just stay home with me and go on your errand tomorrow? Won't they just close whatever down because of the rain?"

"No, sweetheart, I'm afraid that isn't how it works. I need to check on this as soon as possible. I promise that I'll be back home the very moment that I'm finished, and then we can bake cookies today. This looks like good cookie baking weather."

"Can we make cookies that look like treasure chests all filled with gold and jewels?"

"We can make cookies that look like anything you want them to, baby."

"Really? Anything?" Edward's eyes grew wider.

"Absolutely," his mother confirmed.

"Can I have a cookie that looks like an efalant playing a piano?"

"If that's what my big boy wants, then that's what he shall have."

The child's outlook brightened as he allowed his mother to finish dressing him and, after a bit of breakfast, drop him off at Mrs. Cook and Barkley's house.

The neighbor lady was nice enough, but she wasn't nearly as much fun as Edward's mother. She was older and all of her children had grown. It had been at least a decade since a child had lived under her roof, so it came at no surprise that there was nothing to play with or that she didn't know who Jim Hawkins was.

There were no books appropriate for Edward. Not even one of the many tomes on the shelf had pictures in it, he noted with dismay. Mrs. Cook didn't have any games that made sense to the small boy, either. She did have a deck of cards and taught him the fish game, but even playing for pennies that his host provided and told him he could keep didn't occupy the anxious boy for long. Eventually Edward resigned himself to staring out of the window through the gray sheet of rain as he continually scanned the sidewalk for his mother's return.

Many hours later, Elizabeth Mason, who had never worked outside the house a day in her life, arrived to pick her son up in a terrible state. She was filthy from head to toe, and her fine clothes were now dingy gray and torn in several places. The woman was clearly exhausted, but politely declined the offer to eat dinner with her neighbor, preferring simply to get her Edward home so she could relax.

After making a light quick meal for her son and herself, Elizabeth left Edward to his games while she showered away the grime of the day. Sore and bone-weary, she returned to spend a few precious moments with her baby, but soon it was time for bed.

As she tucked her little prince in and kissed him good night, Edward demanded, "Mommy, read me a story."

"Baby, Mommy is very tired. Can't we skip story time this one night? I'll find a way to make it up to you tomorrow."

"No. If I don't get a story, I won't be able to sleep. Please, Mommy. Just for a little while? Please?" the child whined as he stared up from the comfort of his blanket cocoon.

With a sigh, Elizabeth nodded and claimed the book resting on the night stand.

"Alright, Edward, but just for a little while."

Lying down next to her son, the woman wrapped a protective arm around the small body and drew him near as she flipped through the pages of "Treasure Island" to find the place where they had left off last night.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, sweet boy?"

"We didn't make cookies like you promised. I didn't get my efalant."

"Tomorrow, sweetheart. You'll have your little elephant pianist tomorrow."

"Pink efalant."

"The brightest pink imaginable."

With visions of pirate ships and buried treasure guarded by bright pink elephants flowing through his head to feed his imagination, Edward was soon asleep in his mother's arms. As her son battled monsters of the deep from the back of his trusted pachyderm, his run-down mother drifted off in a dreamless sleep beside him.

* * *

"What had you been drinking, Eddie? Pink elephants on parade." Emmett laughed as his brother glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"I was five, Emmett. I tended to think of elephants like giant pigs with long noses and huge ears. Naturally, I would think they were pink. I had never seen one, and only knew of them from books."

"With tusks like a boar, I can sorta see a child making that leap," Jasper admitted while he tried to lend his support to his brother's obviously deranged ideas.

Edward motioned towards his brother and nodded appreciatively.

"See? Jasper understands."

"Then you're both loons. Hadn't you even seen a circus? We had one come through every year, and we were in the middle of nowhere special. There you were smack in the center of a huge city and not a single circus? What about a zoo?"

"A rather dangerous city, Em. My parents took me to a circus when I was way too young to remember. After that, it generally came when my dad wasn't home, and I certainly can't blame my mom for not wanting to take me by herself."

"_That_ I can understand," Rose softly stated.

"Oh come on, babe. Don't you start siding with Eddie, too. Pink elephants like when Dumbo tied one on. You've got to admit that's pretty funny stuff."

"I never said that it wasn't. All I'm saying is that I can understand Edward not having experienced as much at that young of an age given the situation."

"Pink, black, and white work very nicely together," Alice chirped, drawing from her fashion sense to support Edward's forward thinking color scheme. "It would have been a very pretty cookie. Gray elephants would have been too boring."

"It was a perfect cookie, and it was waiting for me when I woke up the next morning.

At some point in the night, my mom woke up and made me that damn cookie so I could take it with me when she brought me back to Mrs. Cook, and did I give her a hard time about that."

"Edward," the patriarch called while a puzzled expression creased his brow. "If I may ask, how is it that you come by this memory? I can certainly understand you recalling the feelings of abandonment that I assume caused you to fight your mother when she left you in the care of others, but how do you now know what she went through?"

"It eventually came out many years later when we were selling the piano after I outgrew it. I had admitted to knowing that it didn't come by way of the North Pole Express, and she shared her little part of the story with me. My memories of her being so tired over those few weeks, and some of the comments I recalled overhearing from the neighbors, allowed me to piece the puzzle together," Edward explained before bowing his head to add, "And there was the argument between my parents upon my father's return."

Looking back up at Carlisle, his first born elaborated.

"My parents rarely argued, but when they did, it generally involved me.

The rumor mill had already been working overtime, and my father caught wind of people claiming that he was somehow in dire straights. There could be no other explanation as to why a successful lawyer's wife would be leaving her child in the care of friends while she took a job unless we were in desperate need of money.

That was a terrible blow to my father's self esteem, and he worried about how it would affect his standing in the community.

Like all other gossip, once my mother stopped working and things went back to normal, the rumors were all but forgotten. It still took a little longer for my father's bruised pride to heal, but with time, nearly everything does."

"So she worked for several weeks to be able to afford the piano?"

"Yes, and why she still thought that I deserved it, I will never understand. To this day, I'm embarrassed to admit how badly I behaved. That right there should have been enough to convince me that Santa wasn't real, at the very least, he couldn't have been watching me.

Everyday I put up more of a fight and made it harder for my mother to convince people to watch me for her. I was refusing to eat for anyone other than my mother. I rarely talked, didn't play, and had become destructive.

In our modern times, professionals would claim that I was acting out to gain my mother's attention. They would certainly be right, but at the time, my behavior was just seen as bad, stemming from a spoiled child not getting his way."

* * *

"Mrs. Matheson, I am so dreadfully sorry. Naturally, I will pay for the damage."

"I appreciate the thought, Elizabeth, but there is no way that money can recover what's been lost. That quilt has been handed down through my family for generations, and in one afternoon, your child has destroyed it."

"At least allow me to try to repair it. I'm a fairly fine quilter myself, and I'm only too happy to patch it for you.'

"I'll patch it. I think your time would be better spent in reining in your son. I must admit that this change in his behavior has been shocking. Edward is usually such a pleasant boy to have around. It appears that his father's absence is truly being felt this time. It is a shame when a boy doesn't have the influence of his father to make him toe the line, but your husband must place the whims of his career before his family to keep you in the standard that you have grown accustomed to."

Elizabeth refused to rise to the clear insult. Instead, she quietly stated, "I just can't understand why he is acting this way."

"Because he needs the firm guiding hand that only a father can provide, my dear. A mother is there to love him, but it's the father's job to snap him back in line when he strays from the correct path. I'm certain that my husband would be happy to fill in while Mr. Mason is away. Give the boy the guidance that he seems to crave, if you know what I mean.

Your son is very boldly telling you what he needs, Elizabeth. You would be wise to have someone supply it, since you don't appear to have the aptitude."

"Thank you for the offer, Mrs. Matheson, but that won't be necessary. I can handle my son just fine on my own."

"Might I say that you have an odd way of showing it."

"Trust me, nothing of this nature will _ever_ happen again." The woman looked down at the little defiant bundle who had wrapped himself around her leg. "Edward and I will sit down and have a very serious discussion this evening once we return home."

"If the child is capable of sitting, I should say that the discussion has been less than adequate."

"Yes, well, I have other methods of disciplining my child that are quite effective while not being detrimental to his overall development."

"I'm sure that they are, dear, but should you finally see the light, just know that the offer of my husband's services still stands. He's raised three boys. William's belt is well broken in, but not yet worn out."

"Thank you. I shall keep that in mind. May you and your family have a wonderful evening."

Taking her son's hand, Elizabeth stalked out the door and down the street, her jaw clenched in irritation.

"Edward, what has gotten into you?"

"I don't like it there. I want to stay home with you," the child whimpered as he struggled to keep pace with the angry woman.

"I can understand why, but that doesn't give you the right to destroy the property of others. Do you not realize that Mr. Matheson would have been within his right to give you a serious thrashing after the way you behaved?

At this moment you should thank your lucky stars that your father isn't home, because I can guarantee that he would take a ruler to your bottom at the very least. With the way that you've been going on, I wouldn't have been surprised to hear that you had gotten your first taste of his belt, and let me just tell you, mister, it would have been rightfully earned.

I'm starting to think that a good hard spanking is what you need, Edward, and don't think that I wouldn't do it. Mrs. Matheson misjudges me, but she could be right on this. Maybe a sore little bottom is the only way to get through to you. I simply can't believe you're becoming this willful and defiant all of a sudden."

Edward began to weep loudly as he ran to keep up with his fuming mother.

"No, Mommy. I'll be good, I won't do it again."

"Young man, you have earned yourself some form of punishment. I'm still shocked from the incident of the other day when I found that Mrs. Cook felt the need to sit you in the corner after you shaved poor Barkley bare. That dog can't even go outside without a sweater now. You can see in his face how silly he feels. I can't understand why you felt the need to do such a thing."

"It was just like petting him. He liked it."

"He doesn't like it now, does he? I don't believe that you would like it if someone took all of your clothes away and then told you to go run around outside in the snow naked."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Edward yelled as he pulled his hand out of his mother's grasp and stamped his little foot in the fresh fallen snow.

Elizabeth crossed her arms and slowly counted backwards from ten in her head before she softly yet sternly replied to her son's tantrum.

"If you weren't before, you are about to be, young man."

Snatching Edward's wrist, the woman pulled him next to her and up on his toes before landing two smart swats to the backs of his thighs.

Edward screamed like he was being murdered while he rubbed at his stinging legs with his free hand and hopped from one foot to the next.

Scooping her boy up in her arms, the fatigued over stressed woman carried her baby home while he clung to her for dear life and sobbed pitifully against her shoulder.

Upon reaching home, Elizabeth placed the boy down in the corner next to the Christmas tree with his nose touching the junction of the walls.

"Now, Master Edward Anthony Mason, you just stay right there while I go get changed. I suggest that you do some long hard soul searching and come up with a reason for your recent misbehavior along with a way that we can work together to improve it. If your attitude doesn't change this instant, young man, your backside will be stinging a good deal more then those little legs of yours. If you don't think that I will do it, just try me.

You might also want to spare a thought to Santa. At this moment, I have to believe that he is having some serious second thoughts about having this house on his list of deliveries. Whatever happened to the little boy who promised that he would work hard to be the best behaved boy in all of Chicago? I think he must have moved away."

The only response Elizabeth received was a sad little sniffle as Edward put both hands on the back of his legs and made a rather elaborate production of rubbing away the sting that had long since faded.

"Calm down, Edward. I'll be back in a few minutes and we'll talk then."

Elizabeth slipped off to her bedroom to quickly wash away the worst of the factory grime and change into some clean clothes. Feeling more like herself, she went back to the sitting room to check on her little miscreant.

Edward was still in the corner where she had placed him, but he had sunk down to the floor and now laid curled up in a little ball, apparently sound asleep.

Gently lifting the limp body, his mother retired to her rocking chair and cuddled the little one in her lap while she softly sang a lullaby.

Edward stirred and burrowed against her before opening his eyes to look at his mother while blinking sleepily.

"I'm scared."

"Of what, dearest one?"

"Scared that one morning when you leave me with Mrs. Cook or Mrs. Matheson. I'm afraid that you'll be tired and won't come back for me."

"Oh, Edward, I would never do anything like that. Nothing is stronger than my love for you, sweetheart, so there isn't anything in this world that could keep us apart. I know that you need me, but I promise that this is only going to continue for a couple more days. It's very important that I finish what I've started, and it's just as important that you be a good boy for the people who have been kind enough to look after you for me. Can you try to be my good boy for just a little while longer and make me proud?"

The little sleepy head nodded and closed his eyes as his mother bent down and kissed his forehead.

"We all have to make sacrifices sometimes, Edward, but they are worth it in the end. I can promise you that this one will be."

With his eyes still tightly shut, the youth whispered, "Mommy, are you really going to..." Edward stopped and buried his face against her chest as guilt and embarrassment overwhelmed him.

"Not this time, baby, but I can't promise what will happen if you act so naughty again. If I were you, I would keep that warning in mind should you be tempted to stray."

Edward melted into his mother's embrace as he began to relax in the knowledge that he was safe and loved.

"Did you have a good lunch today, or did you make a fuss about that as well?"

"I had lunch. There was soup and sandwiches. I cleaned my plate."

"Good, then it will not be a great hardship for you to go to bed without your supper. I think that will be a suitable punishment for my quilt destroyer."

"Can I still have a story?"

"Do you think that you deserve a story before bed tonight?"

The child thought for just a moment before he shook his head while a tear rolled down his cheek.

Brushing the tear away, his mother stared down with all the love in the world reflected in her eyes.

"Let's get you a bath and into your night clothes. If you behave like my big boy and don't fuss, I'll think about continuing your story tonight."

Throwing his arms around his mother's neck, Edward held on tight as Elizabeth carried him towards the bathroom.

"I love you, Mommy."

"I love you too, baby. More than you will ever know."

* * *

**AN: **Edward rather surprised me. Since he and I don't tend to talk, I was amazed that he was so willing to share with me. At the end of this, I discovered that I really like his mother in much the same way that I like Jasper's family. Have no opinion of his father, and really dislike that Matheson chick. ... Is it sad when you don't like your original characters? LOL

Thanks naturally go out to my wonderful beta, Splinter and the incomparable Jasper1863Hale. Love ya, guys.

Thanks for continuing to follow my little story during this busy time of the year. Hope y'all are enjoying your holidays. Have fun and stay safe out there.


	8. Christmas Memories - Edward part 2

"Eddie, you were kind of a jackass."

"Emmett, I was five. How often do I have to repeat that before you get it?"

"I know that, but damn, your ass should have gotten tagged good. You're lucky, bro. My mom would have whooped up on me, and then told my dad so he would whoop me again."

"Edward responds to correction differently, Em. He's not quite as hard-headed as you," Carlisle interjected with a wink.

"Pops, what would you do if Eddie boy acted like that right now? Be honest. From the tearing other people's shit up, to faking a sore behind to try to make you feel bad. Can you really say that you wouldn't have tagged his ass?"

Carlisle sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Language, Emmett, please, but you are correct. In his mother's place, if he threw a tantrum like that, I would have given Edward something to cry about; in fact, I have."

"I was only a little boy. I'm better at controlling my temper now than I did back then."

Carlisle glanced over at his mind reading son and caught his eye.

_Sometimes._

"Better than during our earlier years together."

_Definitely. _

"Still stands, Eddie. You, bro, were a grade-A jackass. After all your mother went through for you, you just had to go and act like a little jerk. I am just shocked. The nerve of some kids."

Emmett placed a hand to his chest while donning his most serious expression of utter disbelief.

Edward groaned as his eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets.

"Five years old. I didn't know anything that was going on, but I soon realized what my mom had done, at least to some extent."

Christmas Eve morning, Elizabeth woke her son to get him dressed and delivered for the neighbors to watch, which had now become a habit. Also formed into habit, was Edward's continuing sleepy protests. No matter how hard he tried to act like a big boy and just do as his mother asked, the little lost boy would cling to her and beg her not to leave. Thankfully, this would be the last day that he would be spending in Mrs. Cook's care, and only for part of the day at that.

Unbeknown to the young boy, his mother had given notice and worked her last shift the day before. Today's absence would only be to make arrangements to have the hard earned piano delivered tonight after her baby had been put to bed with dreams of Santa and flying reindeer filling his head.

It had been a far cry from easy, but with the help of some good and mostly patient friends, Elizabeth Mason had made a Christmas miracle come true.

As Edward went off to play with Barkley, Mrs. Cook and Elizabeth spoke quietly at the door.

"If Paul doesn't want to keep his delivery crew working late, you are always welcome to have it delivered here."

"I certainly appreciate the offer, Agnes, but I have no idea how we would move it a second time. I really do think this is an all or nothing sort of a thing."

"I can see where that could be a problem, but we'll come up with something if we must to make it work. I'll just go down to the corner pub and get some of those strapping lads to move it, if need be. After all you have done to surprise that lucky little scamp, I won't have it spoiled because of a cranky old musician turned crankier merchant. Paul Pagano and I go way back. If he gives you any trouble at all, you have him call me."

Elizabeth smiled as she gave the older woman a hug.

"I couldn't have done this without you, Agnes. I will never forget all you did to help me, and all the suffering we put poor Barkley through."

"No permanent damage done. Maybe we will start a new fashion trend. Perhaps next year we could hire Edward out as a dog groomer to earn that little bit of extra holiday cash."

The women laughed before Elizabeth said her goodbyes so she could catch the streetcar and get to the music store for when it opened.

With the final payment made on the piano, and Mr. Pagano's sons agreeing to a late night delivery for a little extra pocket change, Elizabeth finally allowed herself a moment to relax. Weeks of little to no sleep had finally come to an end. She could barely believe that her life would soon be back to normal, but she was more than ready to go back to having her time free to spend with her son. The separation had been just as hard on her as it had been on Edward, so it was with a tear in her eye that she inwardly sighed in relief.

Running her hand along the Baby Grand's keys brought a smile to the woman's face. All of the toil, all of the planning, all of the tantrums and fussing from her precious boy; she knew they had all been worth it. Elizabeth could not wait to see the expression on Edward's face when he first sets eyes on the glossy ebony instrument while knowing that it was all his.

"My boys will do their best to tune it before they bring it up, but more than likely it will need to be checked again after it's set up," the shop owner explained as he walked up to the woman. "Since we don't want the little bambino waking up, I'll have them come back the day after Christmas to see to the tone and fix whatever might need fixing."

"Thank you, . That will be perfect."

"And I throw in some sheet music. No charge."

"Thank you again. You have been too kind, and it's been a real pleasure to do business with you. You have made my son's Christmas much more special than you could imagine," Elizabeth said with a sweet charming smile.

"The pleasure has been all mine, Mrs. Mason. All I ask is for one thing. I look forward to tickets to your son's first concert."

"I'll see to it that you have tickets to all of his future performances."

Offering her goodbyes and wishes of a merry Christmas, the woman wandered back out onto the street. Finding herself with a little extra time before she was due to pick Edward up, Elizabeth decided to do some last minute shopping. Gifts for the ladies who had been so kind as to help out with keeping track of Edward, and some little odds and ends for her husband and son were on the agenda.

When her shopping was complete, she had acquired several parcels, including one that held a new set of ice skates for her special boy and the mechanical soldier that had caught his eyes weeks ago. The doting mother also purchased a silver bicycle that was to be delivered to Mrs. Cooks house later that evening. Being a last minute purchase, the bike would come disassembled, but Elizabeth felt certain that after the weeks she had put in working on the factory line, she would be more than up to the task of building that simple contraption.

With a happy grin on her face and a spring in her step that had been absent for weeks, Edward's mother headed back to her friend's house to claim her son and enjoy a well deserved relaxing day.

_Later that night..._

"I don't wanna go to bed. I'm not even tired. Come play with me, Mommy," the child called as he happily bounced on the sofa.

"Edward, Santa won't come until you're in bed and sound asleep."

Elizabeth shot the clock on the mantel a nervous glance. The piano would be arriving within the hour, and Edward was showing no sign of slowing down.

"But I wanna stay up to see Santa."

"You know that he doesn't like to be spied upon. Besides, he has an awful lot of stops to make on this very busy night. Even if he wanted to, he doesn't have time to visit with us, baby."

"I won't distract him or bother him much."

"I know you won't because you're going to bed."

"But, Mommy," the bright eyed boy whined as he bounded from the sofa onto the nearby chair.

"Exactly how many gumdrops did Mrs. Cook give you?"

"I don't know. Tons."

With a low groan, Elizabeth rubbed her eyes before reaching over to grab her youngster off the chair and toss him high in the air. Catching her giggling bundle of badness, she carried him to his bedroom and flopped him down on the bed.

"Throw me again!" Edward demanded as he stood up on the mattress.

"Not tonight, baby," his mother answered as she picked him back up to lay him down. "It's past time for fierce little pirates to be in their bunks."

"Can we get a parrot?"

Caught off guard, the woman froze for a second before going back to straightening the blankets while muttering, "We'll see."

"A really big blue one whose tail drags the ground, and he'll talk in five...no, ten different languages."

"Ten? How are you going to be able to understand what he's saying?" Elizabeth inquired as she tucked her little one in.

"He would teach me, and then I would be as smart as him."

"You already are a very smart young man."

"But with a parrot, I would be even smarter. I might even get to be smarter than Daddy."

Elizabeth laughed lightly as he kissed her baby's cheek.

"That would not surprise me at all."

"Story, Mommy!"

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she picked up the book and noted how close they were to the end. Luckily, Santa would be leaving some new books in the stocking of her insatiable little book worm, or she would have to come up with stories of her own to recite as the little boy wound down from his hard day of play.

Edward's splendid imagination required constant material to keep it stoked. Elizabeth could imagine the day when her little boy would be all grown up and writing books of his own, filled with tales of his great adventures. Adventures that were sure to thrill and inspire generations to come. Or maybe he would become a famous composer and write music for the ages, which all started with the purchase of a Christmas piano that would be arriving at any minute.

It took a good deal longer tonight, but eventually her tiny warrior was riding the crest of the high rolling seas to dreamland, and not a moment too soon as a knock on the door called his mother away.

Much quicker than she expected, the piano was unpacked and set up to stand like a gleaming beacon of sophisticated joy in front of the tree. Tipping the men a bit more than planned for doing such an excellent job, with a 'Merry Christmas' the woman saw them out then turned to the task of completing Santa's tasks.

Dashing off to her bedroom, Elizabeth soon returned with ribbon, wrapping paper, and the gifts that she had gathered today that still needed wrapping.

First, she created a huge red bow and tied it around the piano with a hang tag marking it as Edward's special present from Santa. When she was certain that it looked perfect, she set about filling the stocking that her youngster had helped her tack to the fireplace this evening. When the sock bulged at the seams with a variety of toys and sweets, her attention turned to the box containing the bicycle that had been left at her door earlier.

Sitting down on the rug before the fire, she extracted the various bits and pieces and laid them out along with a small sampling of her husband's tools. With it all sprawled out in front of her, she had to admit that this was going to be more of a daunting task than previously envisioned, but her little Edward was worth it.

As time wore on, the warmth of the fire began to make Elizabeth drowsy as she struggled with nuts and bolts, sprockets and chain. It felt as if all those weeks of lack of sleep had suddenly caught up with her, making the task of assembling the contraption seem impossible. Nothing wanted to line up or fit in place, and her eyes began to blur as she pushed herself to get the job done.

The wrench suddenly slipped and a sharp pain momentarily brought the world back into focus as her knuckles scraped against the teeth of the gear that held the chain, drawing blood.

Gritting her teeth against the pain and growing aggravation, Elizabeth tossed the wrench down and leaned back against the piano leg, telling herself that she just needed to rest her eyes for a few minutes. A couple of minutes to relax and refocus, and she was certain that the instructions would make more sense. She could then finish this monstrosity and have it ready for her excitable child come morning.

Silently tippy toeing down the hallway, Edward peeked his head around the corner and gazed in wide-eyed giddy wonder. Santa had come. He had really come. Toys and wrapped presents circled the tree, filling every nook and cranny, but what drew his eye was the bow bedecked piano standing so boldly at the front of the crowd. Its shiny back surface reflected the twinkling lights of the tree, adding even more holiday magic to the wondrous scene. It was delightful. It was magical. It was all his.

Happily rushing towards the instrument, the boy suddenly drew up short at another sight. There, lying partially beneath the piano bench surrounded by bits of gift wrap and ribbon, was his peacefully sleeping mother.

Edward blinked in surprise. Why wasn't Mommy in her bed if she was still sleepy? Maybe Santa had woken her up to show her all of the wonderful presents he was leaving for her good boy, but then why had she not returned to the comfort of her bed after? And what had she been doing to get her fingers so black, dirty, and very un-mother like?

With a slight shrug, Edward tottered over to the table near his father's chair where he had left Santa's cookies and cocoa. A frown creased the boy's forehead. The goodies were untouched. Maybe Santa didn't care for plain butter cookies. Edward had suggested that they frost the cookies to make them extra special, but even so, Santa had enjoyed them enough last year. Barely a crumb had been left behind then, so why didn't he accept the offering this time? Perhaps next year he and his mother should make oatmeal cookies. Santa might like those better.

Still puzzling over the cookie mystery, Edward looked from the fragments of ribbon on the floor over towards the scattered metal parts that appeared to make up a bicycle. The sight of the silver frame lying on its side and the dark grease under his mother's nails sparked an idea which he quickly attempted to shake from his head. That couldn't be.

As his mind pondered the impossible, Elizabeth began to stir, sending Edward ducking behind the chair out of sight.

With a moan, the sore and stiff woman sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. What was she doing lying on the floor? Looking around at the disarray, she suddenly snapped fully awake. With the fog in her head lifting, her sleep blurred vision sought the clock. As the time came into focus, Elizabeth let out a soft gasp.

"Edward will be up at anytime," she whispered to herself before returning to tackle her bicycle project.

From his hiding place, the child watched his mother configure a mechanical wonder from the strange array of bits and pieces scattered across the floor. Once built, his mother swaddled the bike in ribbon which she tied off with a large bow before rolling it up against the tree.

Quickly cleaning up the gift wrap mess, Elizabeth wandered over to the end table and took a sip of the now chilled cocoa as she surveyed her handiwork. Smiling, she gave herself a mental pat on the back. Even without her husband's help, she had managed to create a picture perfect Christmas to surprise her little man.

Reaching for a cookie, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of the grease ground into her finger tips and across her palm. Groaning quietly, she made her way to the bathroom to scrub away the evidence of her recent activities, completely unaware of the two tear-filled green eyes that studied her every move.

With his mother occupied for a few minutes, Edward took the opportunity to make his get away. Dashing back to his room, the child threw himself onto his bed and burrowed beneath the covers.

Huddled under his blanket, Edward sniffled as he wiped away his tears. Santa Claus hadn't come after all. The magic and wonderment of his childhood had just been crushed. He felt hurt and confused. Why would the kindest man in all the world not want to visit him? Why would he be left out and denied a happy Christmas?

Maybe Santa just didn't like him. With all of his recent poor behavior, it was possible that the man had decided Edward didn't deserve anything after all. More tears pooled in the child's eyes and left trails down his pink cheeks. But if he had been so bad as to not deserve his gifts, what was his beloved piano doing under the tree? What if that was a mistake? What if Santa had forgotten to cancel his order after Edward's dreadful tantrum and the Barkley incident, or what if the shop hadn't received the notice in time?

Edward's heart broke and he wept harder. Santa hadn't come. Santa Claus didn't love him, and soon the men from the music store would get a notice saying that he didn't deserve his piano, and then they would take it away.

A soft rapping on his door sent the little boy burrowing deeper under the covers while he did his best to hide his tears.

"Edward? Edward, baby. Wake up, sweetheart. It's Christmas morning. Come look at what Santa has left for you," his mother's sweet voice quietly called as she poked around in the blanket to unearth her son.

Edward just manged to catch himself before he snapped at his mother to let her know that Santa had most certainly not visited him. Instead, he bit his lip to stop its quivering before allowing the blanket to be pulled down to uncover his head.

"Merry Christmas, Edward," Elizabeth beamed, but her expression quickly morphed into one of worry at the sad look on her little one's face.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Don't you feel well? Does something hurt?"

Reflexively, her hand went to her son's forehead to check for fever. Finding none brought greater concern, for she couldn't fathom what would cause a child to be sad at Christmas.

"What's wrong, Edward?" she tried again, only to be answered by a shrug of her boy's shoulders. "Aren't you excited to find out what sorts of goodies Santa left for you?"

Edward shook his head and shrank down in bed a little more.

Elizabeth puzzled for a few more minutes when a light finally dawned.

"Do you think that Santa left naughty boy gifts under the tree because of the way you've been acting?"

The woman took her son's silence as confirmation of her theory.

"You have nothing to worry about, love. Santa takes into account how good you have been all year long. He knows that everyone will have a rough time once in a while. I promise he didn't hold the last couple of weeks against you. Now come see that I'm telling the truth. I swear that there is an entire toy store in the sitting room. Santa must have felt that you have been exceptionally good this year."

Extracting her bundle from his bed, Elizabeth carried Edward into the sitting room and put on her best surprised expression.

"Oh my goodness, Edward. Do you see? I told you that Santa was pleased with you. Look at all the toys, and I wonder what he left under the blanket over there by the tree?"

"Santa didn't come."

"Of course he did. Just look at all of the wonderful things he left for you." The woman carried her son over and placed him down by his father's chair. "And look at that if you don't believe me. Santa ate all the cookies that you made for him. I'm sure he appreciated his warm cocoa on such a cold night. If that doesn't prove that there was a jolly old elf in this house last night, I don't know what will."

Edward didn't want his mother to be upset with him for having been out of bed, so he kept quiet about where the cookies and cocoa had gone. Instead, he stared at the bounty laid out before him and realized that Santa was not as important as he thought he was. It had been his mother who made all of this possible. His mother knew that he had been too naughty for Santa, so she had bought him all these nice things herself. Mommy wanted him to have a good Christmas, even if it wasn't deserved, because she loved him that much. So what if Santa didn't love him? His mother did, and that was all that really mattered.

"I love you, Mommy!" Edward exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around her leg and hugged her tight.

Elizabeth was surprised by her son's reaction, but snaked an arm around his shoulders and gave him a little squeeze.

"I love you, too, baby. You're the best little boy in all the world. I'm so proud that you're all mine. Now go loot your treasures, Captain Edward. Your bounty awaits."

She gave him a gentle pat that sent him running towards the tree.

Edward didn't understand why his mother insisted on giving Santa the credit for all she had done, but if that made her happy, he would gladly play along. She certainly deserved all the happiness that he could give her because there was on thing that the child found crystal clear; Elizabeth Mason was the best mother in all the world, and Edward was thrilled that she belonged to him.

* * *

"I couldn't imagine a woman any finer than my mother. She was exceptional in every way.

Now try as I might, I feel that I was never able to live up to being the son she deserved. Over the years, I've often thought that I was the reason God had decided to take her so young. He felt that I wasn't grateful for what he had given me, so he simply took her back. I really didn't fully appreciate her until she was gone, but that does seem to be the way all too often."

"You should never think like that, Edward. The epidemic that took her life claimed yours as well. From the way I see it, he didn't think that this world was good enough for the both of you. You and Elizabeth deserved better, but I interfered, partly because of her request, but mostly out of my own selfishness. You were something very special back then, and you still are now.

What happened was not retribution, son. It was just fate, and vampire selfishness," Carlisle explained in a sad tone as his mind went back to that time of great sorrow from which would spring the greatest joy he would ever know.

"I realize that, but I can't help the way that I feel. I'm just happy to have been given a second chance. What God took away, you were able to give back to me."

Edward's soulful eyes came to rest on the gentle woman who cuddled so closely to his father. Gazing into her angelic face, he spoke quietly.

"I count myself doubly blessed, Carlisle. I might have lost one mother, but thanks to you, I gained another."

Holding his mother's gaze, the youth cleared the emotional lump from his throat and continued.

"I finally have a real father in my life; one who is everything that my own wasn't. You have given me a remarkable life and a family that I would have never dreamed possible, but most of all, you have graced me with a mother who is every bit as phenomenal as the one I lost."

Venom tears glazed Esme's eyes as she gave her son a smile before glancing down at the carpet.

"Oh, hell, I'll second that!" Emmett boomed as he stood and pulled Esme to her feet so he could wrap her in one of his famous bear hugs.

Lifting her up, he spun her around as sounds of agreement came from all sides. The matriarch felt her heart swell with the love that she held for her children, but she shook her head to the negative.

"I'm not that wonderful," she said as he patted her bear boy to get him to set her back down.

"You sure could have fooled me," came a quiet comment from her mate.

"Same here," Rosalie added. "Even when I tried to reject the family as a whole, you continued to love me. I had never experienced love for love's sake before, so that was completely new to me. Everyone who ever claimed to love me really just wanted something from me, but you loved me for who I am with no strings attached.

You have the purest heart in this room. You truly do love without condition. This is something that I'm still trying to learn, but you offer the best example for me to follow."

"Momma, you are the most accepting individual that I have ever met," Jasper confided as he picked up where Rose left off. "There aren't many who can take a look at me and not run for the hills. Even Carlisle was wary of me, and rightfully so, but not you.

When Alice said that we would find a family here, I was more than skeptical. I knew for a fact that no one would take me in looking like I look. I was surprised enough that Alice wanted me. There was no way that another person would willing take a chance on a battle weary scarred up soldier. I mean, hell, I'm not exactly easy to love.

Any sensible creature would have kept her distance from such a dangerous fiend, but what did you do? You welcomed me into this family with open arms and never even stopped to question what I might end up doing to you and yours."

"Are you saying that I lack sense, Major?" Esme smiled as she reached out a hand to brush her soldier's scarred cheek.

"Had you asked me that back then, I would have said yes, but I know better now.

You can see what others can't. You have a unique ability to see goodness in a person even when they can't find it in themselves. Not only can you find it, but you bring it out in them, and make a person believe that they have value; that they're worth being loved. That is a remarkable gift which rivals Alice's second sight and Edward's mind reading. That's your power, Momma. You are a blessing to us all."

Jasper caught his mother's hand and brought it to his lips to kiss it gently before turning her free.

Esme beamed with pride at her children, but then something changed in her eyes. A darkness settled behind her golden orbs while a sadness tainted her expression, sending a shiver through her empathic boy.

His questioning look brought about another shake of her head before she whispered, "I haven't successfully found the good in everyone though. It would appear that my gift is flawed."

Carlisle caught his wife's hand and gently guided her back down onto his lap. Wrapping her in his loving embrace, he brushed the hair away from her ear and kissed her neck before whispering, "There will always be a few who do not possess what you seek. The fault lies in them, not with you."

"Carlisle's right," Jasper spoke up with conviction in his deep velvety voice as he easily keyed in on the source of his mother's conflicted emotions. "Anyone who could treat such an affectionate woman so cruelly is truly beyond redemption. Do not judge your capacity to draw out good based on the failings of that evil man."

"I don't believe anyone is beyond redemption, Jazz. I can't allow myself to believe that. If I had just tried a little harder..."

"You tried hard enough and endured more than anyone ever should have. That man was a waste of resources. He was a true monster whose soul deserves to burn in hell. I'm just happy that when he met an actual monster, it was me. I cherish knowing that I'm the one who sent him to hell. I'm happy to have put fear into him for once in his life," Edward growled while his eyes darkened. "My only regret is that it didn't happen on Christmas or, I promise you, that would have been my most treasured memory of the holiday."

"Edward, don't say such things. His soul was not worth your own," Carlisle mildly rebutted while he felt his mate stiffen in his arms.

"It is a price that I'm far too happy to pay. I admit that I regret the rest of my rebellion, but that is the one act that I shall never regret."

Carlisle opened his mouth to speak, but was never given the chance as his bruin added his two cents.

"I'm with Eddie on this one. Mess with my Momma and you're just asking for a world of pain." Emmett balled up his fist and slammed it into his open palm, before uttering a soundless, "ow" while shaking both hands.

After a moment of snickering, sounds of agreement once again erupted among the siblings, but Esme raised a hand to quiet them down.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but that was a long time ago, and just as a reminder, I am the mother here. It is my job to protect all of you, not the other way around."

"We protect each other," Jasper corrected. "Family members will always defend one another."

"That's true, but there is no one to fight any longer. This is a past that would be better off forgotten. I'm sorry that I brought it up. Can we please just return to our happier discussions?

Whose turn is it to enthrall us with their happy holiday memories?"

"Hmm," Alice muttered thoughtfully. "I think it's your turn, Momma. What is your favorite Christmas memory?"

"Oh, honey, I think I'll have to take a pass on this one. My holiday memories are a little too hazy to share."

"Come on, Momma, there must be something that you remember. Some special outing or gift that you got? Say." Emmett narrowed his eyes as he was struck with a thought. "Didn't you grow up on a farm...or was it a ranch?" He shot his brother a quick smirk before looking back to his mother. "Now don't tell me that you set a barn on fire, too."

In spite of her heavier mood, Esme couldn't help but laugh at her brawny baby bear.

"No, Emmy, nothing like that. I was a bit of a troublemaker, but I leave the pyromania to you and Jasper." She thought for a minute then sighed. "Christmases on the farm weren't very outstanding, apparently. I can remember my father taking me out one year to go pick out and cut down our tree. We hauled it back through the snow with our old draft horse. My father put me up on Jim's back and let me ride him home.

Other than that, I can recall helping my mother with the cooking. Plucking the goose was always a real treat." Esme rolled her eyes at her own sarcasm. "We would go caroling, and on Christmas Eve, my uncle would always read to us from the bible about the birth of Christ. I think that was his way of trying to keep us focused on the point of the holiday when all we were interested in were the presents."

Looking around at her close family, the matriarch shrugged.

"See, my childhood lacked the excitement that all of you seemed to have had in abundance."

"I seriously doubt that, young lady," Carlisle responded as he tapped his mate on the tip of her nose. "Were that true, I don't believe that I would have had to treat that broken leg you earned from falling out of a tree. It would seem to me that you would have made a habit of creating excitement if there was none to be naturally found."

Esme lowered her gaze and smiled.

"As I said, Carlisle, I was a bit of a troublemaker, but during Christmas, I tended to stay on my toes. I didn't want to chance a stocking filled with switches any more than Jasper did."

She gave her southern son a wink that was rewarded by his charming smile in return.

"Wellll," Emmett drawled. "You have to at least have a favorite present. Tell us about that. What little goodies caused my momma bear's heart to skip a beat?"

"I don't know, Emmy."

"Something has to stand out. I mean, my shotgun was the best, but I can also remember having a world of fun with a metal firetruck that had a ladder that went up and down. Also had some good times with a wagon." A glint of mischief sparked in the bruin's eye. "Well...pushing my cousin down a low cliff in it was fun for me, but I don't think he really appreciated it. Come to think of it, I didn't appreciate it when my dad got the full story out of me." Emmett thought his adventure over for a few more seconds before muttering,"Yeah...maybe the wagon wasn't the best example there, but you get my drift."

"My favorite present didn't end up very well either, Em. I don't think it's something I want to talk about."

* * *

**AN: **Only two more Cullens to go! Woo hooo! Despite my best efforts, Esme's story ended up being sad, but it still showcases her strength. Esme, like Carlisle, is very forgiving, which works well for my trouble causing teens, but I'm with the kids as far as Charles is concerned. Finding that he was Edward's first human kill really gave me a whole new respect for that boy.

A big thank you to all who continue to follow along. All the reviews, adds, messages..., they are helping keep me somewhat sane this holiday season. My sanity also rests in the hands of Splinter and Jasper1863Hale, without whom, I would have been locked up some time ago. It's the voices in my head. What can I say?


	9. Christmas Memories - Esme

Edward suddenly stood and walked over to the piano. Sitting down, he huffed out a breath and started to play softly while the others looked on in puzzlement. After several minutes of playing a haunting melody, his fingers stilled as he looked over at his mother.

"I think you should talk about it. I know that you are afraid of how the rest of us will feel, but at least I can tell you that all I see is an incredibly strong woman."

"But..."

"We already know the basics. If that is your best memory of Christmas, then I think you should share it. I can understand why it was the perfect gift; one that will never be topped."

"One that has been topped many times over, Edward. Just not at Christmas."

The boy smiled and gave a slight nod before lowering his head respectfully while he watched the story unfold in his mother's mind.

Looking over her expectant children, Esme considered how each had bravely shared their stories with the family. Her focus fell on Jasper as she recalled his reluctance to open up and share what had clearly been a happy moment drawn from an act that caused him shame.

Shifting to Emmett, she considered how her happy-go-lucky son had let them see a different side of his personality as he shared the sorrow he felt over the loss of his father. Rosalie, her New York princess, and the awkward way by which she had managed to come to experience her first kiss. Her own adoring mate, and the horrible treatment he had endured in a quest to do something nice for an undeserving man that he still manged to love. Finally, her beloved Edward and his memory of a moment that could have ruined any child's faith in Christmas miracles, but instead gave him a deeper appreciation for those who love him.

Looking back now, she could see how her memory was also a chance for her to turn a negative into a positive. The memory was painful, but it was bittersweet and in the end her life had become so much more fulfilling than she could have imagined in her wildest dreams.

Pulling slightly away from her mate, she glanced up at him and caught the concern reflected in his expression of love.

"This will be difficult for me," she muttered softly as he took her hand.

"You don't have to do this. If it doesn't feel right..."

Esme placed a hand on his cheek to quiet him.

"It feels right, it's just not easy, and I know that I don't even have to ask, but I need reassurance that you will lend me your strength should I need it."

"Always, a ghrá mo chroí."

Cupping her face between his hands, he kissed her gently before allowing her to pull away at her own pace.

"Jasper, would you...?"

"Yes, ma'am. No need to ask. It's my pleasure."

A wave of comforting warmth rushed over Esme, making her feel much less anxious as she settled against her mate's firm chest and drew a breath.

"My best Christmas came in 1920. As you all know, I was married at the time and Charles and I were far from being an ideal couple. I tried my best to please him, but my lacking as a wife and housekeeper tried his patience daily. There was simply nothing that I could do right in his eyes.

On this night in early December, everything I did was wrong. Charles had been planning on going out to the local tavern with some of his old army friends and naturally the shirt that he wanted to wear hadn't been washed yet, so that set him off in a foul mood.

I found him a reasonable replacement, but my reward came in the form of a backhand across the face that split my lip and blurred my vision. From there it only became worse."

* * *

"Damn you, woman, didn't your mother teach you anything about being a wife? You are utterly useless," the man roared as he threw the bowl of scorched stew at his spouse. The heavy crock barely missed Esme's head before it shattered against the wall behind her, drenching her in hot broth. The steaming liquid soaked through the shoulder of her blouse to burn the pale skin underneath, causing the woman to shriek in pain and fright.

"Now look at what you've gone and made me do. Clean that up! You may be content to live in a pig's sty, but I'm sure as hell not, and I'll be damned if I'm going to put up with your filthy ways around here a second longer."

As she crouched down to clean up the splattered food, a heavy booted foot slammed against her ribs and sent her sprawling on the floor. Defensively curling up into a ball, Esme gasped for air as her body was racked with pain.

"I'm wrong. You're not useless. You're worse than useless, Esme. You're not even any good at your wifely duties, and all you need to do for that is just lay there and take it. How am I supposed to get a son out of you if I'm always having to pry your damn legs apart to get what's mine? Damn you, woman, I can get more pleasure out of a cheap whore, and at least I wouldn't have to provide her with room and board for the right to fuck her.

Now get your worthless ass up and start earning your keep around here, before I go sell you to some whorehouse and let you be their burden."

Esme was beginning to rise when another hard kick landed against her hip. Crying out in pain, the frightened woman crumbled back down on the floor as she sobbed out apologies to her husband.

The heel of Charles's boot suddenly pressed against her temple, pinning her against the unyielding floorboards. Esme could do nothing but whimper in fear for her life.

"I could crush your skull like an egg and no one would give a shit," Charles sneered as he added a little more pressure to prove his point. "Just one more dead whore out in the gutter. That's what they would think as they loaded your wretched carcass into the meat wagon to take you away and dump you in some hole in the ground."

Esme wept soundlessly as she grieved for the loss of her youth and happiness that she used to know before this man came into her life bringing nothing but suffering. She could remember being carefree and loved by her family. Esme had thought that feeling would follow her through life, and she would wrap the same loving care around her future family, but she had been so very wrong.

Mentally, she begged Charles to follow through with his threat. The woman who had feared nothing in her youth did not fear death. Instead, she now looked upon the inevitable as a friendly peaceful release from the tortuous hell her life had become.

_Do it. Do it. God, please make him do it, and end this suffering. I beg you. Haven't I already paid enough for whatever sin I'm being punished for? _

The woman continued to beg in her head as she trembled against the cold ground, but her salvation was not to come; not on this night.

Removing his foot, Charles spat on his spouse before grabbing her hair to yank her to her feet.

"Get your ass up. I'm tired of watching you lay about doing nothing while I go out and work to put a roof over your head and food on the table. Food that you can't even fix without burning to some inedible slop."

"I'll make you something else," she whispered, only to flinch as her husband threatened her with a raised fist.

"Did I ask you to make something else? Did I even ask you to speak?"

Esme shook her head and fell silent.

"I don't need you wasting any more of my hard earned money cooking food that isn't even fit to slop a hog with. I'll pick up dinner in town, and I'll expect this house to be spotless when I return. Get it and you cleaned up. How am I supposed to find you desirable enough to fuck when you look like that? After all I do for you, the very least you can do is have yourself presentable and your legs spread when I come home at night. That's your job Esme, and it's a whole shitload easier than mine.

Get it through that thick skull yours," he growled while knocking his fist against the side of her head. "All you need to do is clean, cook, and be ready to fuck when I'm ready for it. I'm not asking for much, you stupid cow, and you better start providing it or I'll throw your ass out on the street. Then what will you do? I can promise that no one would ever want you. I'll see to that if it's the last thing I do. If you want to keep your happy home, you better straighten the fuck up and fly right."

* * *

The sound of ripping fabric and the snap of wood silenced the matriarch as she glanced towards her soldier and his pixie mate where they curled together in the arm chair.

Jasper stared back for a moment before looking down at the chunk of chair arm still clutched in his vise-like grip. Blinking, he looked back up at his mother while the full impact of what he had just done hit him. Embarrassment shown on the Major's handsome face as he bowed his head in shame.

"Sorry, Momma. I'll get that replaced straight away."

"And everybody thinks I'm the destructive one," Emmett whispered in his mate's ear only to be answered with a hard slap to the back of his head. "OW! What did I do?"

"It's alright, Jasper. It was an accident. I didn't mean for you to become that upset," his mother stated with a sad sigh. "This is why I didn't want to say anything. What's done is done and can't be changed. There's no point in anyone becoming upset over it now."

"While not all reactions can be helped, you should be able to tell us anything that you want to about your past without it causing problems," Alice softly reassured. "Keeping things like that to yourself isn't healthy, and you already know that we all want to be here for you to help in any way that we can."

Rosalie nodded before quietly adding, "We all knew that Charles put you through hell, but Edward is probably the only one who really understands what you've suffered through. I appreciate you having the strength to share this with the rest of us. I know know hard that is to do."

Carlisle added his support through a reassuring hug as he spoke below a whisper in his mate's ear. "This is your family. They love you and will suffer with you, but they want to help. Don't worry so much, a ghrá mo chroí . They will also rejoice with you as you slay this demon."

Jasper held his breath for a moment then forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply.

"The chair was entirely my fault, Momma. Don't you think on it at all, but I will tell you that I'm in complete agreement with Edward. That bastard is lucky that it was Ed who got to him because if I had known about him back then, he would have suffered a great deal more," the soldier admitted without hesitation.

"It doesn't take Edward's gift to know what I would have done to him," Rosalie hissed.

"The world is a better place without that evil man in it," Alice agreed.

"There were few redeeming factors to Charles, but like everyone else, he was put here for a reason," Esme countered in a weary, sad tone.

"To become dinner," came the faint response from the piano bench.

"Every creature deserves to live, Edward," the patriarch spoke up as all eyes turned to him.

"That one didn't, and neither did that excuse you had for a father," Rose spat as her eyes went jet. "And neither did Royce, John, or any of the others who abused and violated me."

"I'm not saying that they didn't deserve some form of punishment for what they have done, but it's not our place to deal that out. You can trust that they will pay for their crimes eventually. All things work out for the best in the end."

Rosalie ground her teeth as she stared at her father with anger and disbelief.

"After knowing what he had done to her, how could you not have been moved to take some sort of action? Being tolerant of other people's beliefs is all good and well, but I can't understand your tolerance for such a vile individual; certainly not one who abused your mate. You've damn near taken Jasper's head off for accidentally hurting her, but you would allow a man who intentionally tried to destroy her physically, emotionally and mentally to continue to defile this world with his presence? Why?"

"It was not my place, and it was not what your mother wanted," Carlisle stated softly.

Rose shifted her focus towards Esme.

"It's not what you wanted? How could you _not_ want him dead? How in the hell could you allow him to elude justice and continue his heinous activities with other unsuspecting victims?"

"I did want him dead, Rose, and I certainly didn't want another woman to suffer my fate, but I felt that death was too kind an option for a man like that. I knew that eventually he would make a mistake. He would prey upon the wrong person and things would end badly for him. There is justice in the world, but you have to allow it to work in it's own time."

Esme closed her eyes for a few moments, and Edward looked up with a cocked brow.

"If I had known that I might have passed on him," the mind-reader smirked before shaking his head. "Nah, I still wouldn't have. I took far too much pleasure in ending that miserable life, but still, it would have been an interesting show."

"What are you talking about?" Rose snapped in annoyance at being left out of the private exchange.

"Charles had accumulated a rather sizable gambling debt that was held by some very powerful, unscrupulous men," Esme informed her children. "He was on the run when Edward found him. He was living on borrowed time already, and once they caught up to him, he would have known true suffering. In the end, Edward's actions were a show of kindness. Those mobsters would have killed him more slowly and certainly more painfully."

"See, Kitty, justice would have been served. It nearly always is in this life, but if not, you can be certain that it will be in the next," Carlisle affirmed.

"So, if this trash didn't get taken out until he ran into Eddie, how were you able to pull off a happy memory from a Christmas like that?" the bruin asked with a tilt of his head.

"That meet up with his buddies at the pub ended up buying me a little peace. One of his friends was looking for a couple of people to help with a house he was building in Cambridge. Charles was between jobs at the time..."

Esme was momentarily interrupted as her fair haired daughter scoffed, "Oh sure, he worked so hard at putting that food on the table. Lying sack of..."

"Rosalie, please." Carlisle ended his daughter's rant then looked to his wife to continue.

"Since he was between jobs, he eagerly jumped at the opportunity to make some extra money even though it meant that he would be away for several weeks and most likely not be home for Christmas.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched him get on that bus. A wife shouldn't feel that way about her husband, but what could I do? My parents had told me that I needed to just keep my mouth shut and weather the storm. People would not believe that Charles was abusive. Outside the house, he seemed like the perfect loving husband, and I was too embarrassed to let anyone see the cuts, bruises and black eyes, so his farce was safe. But once he was gone, someone did eventually find the evidence of his cruelty. Finally, someone believed me and helped me find the strength to do what I knew I needed to do all along."

* * *

"Mrs. Evenson, please come this way."

The nurse led Esme down a short hallway to an exam room and showed her inside.

"Please put this on and have a seat on the table. The doctor will be with you shortly."

Disrobing, Esme slipped into the hospital gown and turned slightly to see her reflection in the polished metal cabinet door. The bruise on her hip was beginning to fade to a dull yellow green that could be explained away as a simple accident; a trip and fall, or bumping into a piece of furniture in the middle of the night. Those stories had always worked previously when someone happened to notice some bump or bruise on her, and there was no reason to believe they wouldn't work now.

The imprint of fingers around her upper arm and wrists, or the vivid deep purple that crossed her back in angry stripes, would be more difficult to explain. She could only hope that none of the medical professionals would notice them or the bruising to her neck from where her husband nearly choked her on their last night together as man and wife before his departure. He had never been a gentle lover, but that night he was more aggressive, like some wild animal trying to mark his claim. She had bled badly afterwards and now feared his return all the more, knowing that he would feel the need to reclaim her again and prove to the world that he owned her.

Esme tried to deepen her breath in an attempt to stave off her growing anxiety, but that only brought about an increased ache in her side. She assumed correctly that a rib or two had been cracked, however there was little that could be done for that. She could only hope that they would have enough time to heal before incurring more damage.

Climbing onto the examination table, Esme rubbed her hands briskly together while shivering from the chill in the too bright sterile room. What was she doing? She shouldn't be here. They didn't have the money for this, and Charles would be furious that she didn't seek his approval before spending his money so carelessly. The caramel-haired woman sighed while considering that it really wouldn't make any difference. He would be furious with her anyway, so she might as well offer him a real reason to inflict the punishment that she would inevitably endure.

After a short wait, a knock on the door brought her to attention. The doctor that walked in was not like the handsome doctor from her youth who she still dreamed about. This man was older, gray and wrinkled, but he possessed very kind eyes.

"Hello, Mrs. Evenson. I'm Dr. Troy. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Not very well, Doctor. I've been feeling run down lately, and for the last few days, I keep having bouts of nausea. I've tried everything I can think of, but I'm at a loss." Hanging her head slightly, Esme muttered, "I'm sorry to bother you with this. I know that you're busy and have patients who are in much more dire conditions than I am. After saying it out loud, my complaints really do seem like a waste of your time. They're rather silly and childish."

"They are no such thing. They are very valid reasons to seek a consult and, after going over your chart, I can say that there is a very good reason for your symptoms, young lady," the doctor remarked as he pushed his eyeglasses back up his nose. "It appears that you are in the motherly way."

"I'm what?" Esme questioned as her eyes widened in shock.

Looking up from the chart with a smile, the man patted the back of the woman's hand gently.

"You are pregnant, my dear. You're going to be a mother."

"But I can't be."

"Immaculate conception, perhaps?" the elderly doctor joked.

"No, no. That wasn't what I meant, but it's..."

"When was your last cycle?"

Esme thought for a moment as her brows knitted together in a frown. The trauma inflicted to her body tended to throw all of her normal processes off, so she really hadn't even noticed.

"I'm not terribly regular. I didn't realize."

The doctor chuckled while reaching for his patient's wrist to monitor her pulse rate.

"With how busy ladies keep themselves these days, I can't say that I'm surprised at all.

Now of course I'll give you a thorough exam to make sure that there isn't some other aliment worsening your symptoms, but fatigue and nausea are quite common while your body adjusts to the hormonal changes it needs to go through to support the new life growing inside."

"I don't think a physical will really be necessary, Doctor. I've already taken up far too much of your precious time as it is. Isn't there just some sort of vitamin that you can give me to pick me up, or simply something that will settle my stomach?"

"Your blood tests show you to be a little on the anemic side. We'll correct that with a supplement and maybe a slight change to your diet, but I'm still going to give you a good once over."

Noting the flush that colored the woman's cheeks, along with the increase in her heart rate, the doctor tried to set Esme's mind at ease.

"I'm certain everything is as it should be, and I promise there is no reason to feel self conscious, dear. A strong, fine young woman like yourself has nothing at all to worry about, and keep in mind that I've been doing this a long time. I was practicing before you were born. You're in very good hands."

Esme tried to smile as she nodded, then closed her eyes when the stethoscope slipped under the neck of her gown and pressed firmly against her chest. When instructed to breathe deeply, the rush of air would momentarily hitch with each inhalation, regardless of her attempts to hide it.

"Are you experiencing any pain with your breathing?"

"Just a little stitch in my side from sleeping crooked last night," she muttered with a slight shrug.

"Ah. That happens often enough, doesn't it? Takes a while to work the kinks out in the morning."

The man gave her shoulder a light squeeze before leaning over to unfasten the tie on the back of the gown. As his nimble fingers brushed the fabric away to expose her back, the woman froze while the doctor did the same. Recovering swiftly, he carefully placed the cold metal bell on her back with as light a touch as possible while avoiding the bruised streaks.

"Just breathe normally for me, Mrs. Evenson. That's it. Good."

Pulling the gown closed, he straightened as he removed the listening device from his ears.

"Your heart and lungs sound fine. An oxen would be lucky to be so healthy."

Retrieving a penlight from his jacket pocket, he instructed her to stare straight ahead as he carefully peered into her eyes. Mumbling softly to himself, the doctor put away his light source and ran his hands along her scalp. Esme flinched and then stilled as his expert touch found a large contusion hidden beneath her hair.

"Have you been bothered by headaches or blurred vision?"

"No. I'm fine."

Standing, the man folded his arms over his chest as he gave his patient a no-nonsense look.

"Mrs. Evenson, I can't possibly help you unless you confide in me. I assure you that anything you tell me will be held in the strictest of confidences."

Swallowing hard, Esme glanced away as she again muttered quietly, "I'm fine."

With an expression of disbelief on his face, the man shook his head sadly.

"If you say so." Scribbling a note on her chart, he glanced back to catch the worried look that darkened her features. "I'm going to need you to lie down. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course."

The aging doctor helped ease the woman down on the table before gently palpating various sections of her body. More often than not, a soft gasp or quiet whimper would follow the passage of his hands. When he was satisfied that each region had been covered, he sat her back up, believing she would be more comfortable in an upright position before taking a seat on the rolling stool that stood near the foot.

"Mrs. Evenson, I really should give you a pelvic exam, but I believe we've made you uncomfortable enough for one visit, and what I have to say is not likely to improve that situation.

If you continue to allow these things to happen to you, you will not be able to carry to term. Am I correct in assuming that these injuries are caused by your husband?"

Tucking her chin against her chest, Esme remained quiet as she shifted uncomfortably on the table.

"Mrs. Evenson, you are not the first young lady..."

"It's Esme."

Giving a faint nod, he continued.

"Esme, you are not the first woman to come into this office with these kinds of injuries, nor are you the first to attempt to protect the person causing your distress. I have seen these things turn out very badly and I would spare you that heartbreak. I'm certain that you love your husband or you would not accept what he is doing, but I'm going to ask you to think of your unborn child. If you won't act in favor of your own interests, please consider the interests of your baby."

"I don't know what I can do," the woman admitted in a mousy voice. "I've asked for help, but have been told to keep quiet and try to be a good wife. If I was a good wife, he wouldn't hit me so often, so the fault has to be in me."

The man's jaw clenched before he took a calming breath and spoke.

"I have never known a case where the victim of abuse is at fault. The sickness here lies in your husband. If you stay with him, your child will not live to see the light of day, and I'm not sure how much more your body can stand either. You need to get out of there. Do you have any friends who he doesn't know, or maybe family somewhere who would take you in?"

"I have a cousin in Milwaukee."

"Go there. I will give you money for a bus ticket if need be. This is my professional advice as your doctor, Esme. Go to Milwaukee and start your life over. Enjoy your youth. Enjoy your child. Find a good man who will treat you as you should have been treated all along, give you as many children as you desire, and share a long and happy life together. That is all that any of us can ask for. It is also the least that you deserve."

Tears welled up in the woman's eyes as she listened to the man validate the things she already knew, but had fought so hard to convince herself were untrue. She did deserve better. Instead of being Charles's victim, she could turn her life around and start over. She could finally realize her dream of moving west and becoming a teacher to support herself and her child.

**Her** child. The baby that she always dreamed of having. Her bid for immortality. The chance to become a mother and nurture the next generation that would grow up to make the world a better place.

As she ran a hand over her stomach, the power that had been denied her these last three years suddenly surges forth. She was a strong woman who was more than capable of being independent. She would leave this oppressive life behind and finally know true happiness again; for herself and for the precious life that God had placed in her keeping.

* * *

"I knew that it wasn't going to be easy trying to make a living in a new place with a baby. Being a single mother back then was not what it is now, but at that point, I didn't care. I wouldn't have my baby growing up in such a dangerous environment. There was no way I was willing to take a chance like that. Charles could beat and molest me, but I would be damned if he would touch a hair on my child's head.

With the ticket generously provided by Dr. Troy, by the end of that week, I was a free woman. My cousin, Clair, was kind enough to take me in. She was always a very caring person, so I knew that I could count on her discretion. Still, I never told her that I was pregnant. I knew eventually I would have to tell her, but for that time, it was my secret; the very best Christmas present that I could possibly have."

Esme smiled slightly.

"Strange, isn't it? The fact that Charles would be the one to give me the greatest gift in the world – the chance to be a mother and make a difference in another person's life."

Rose glanced away as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "But it didn't work out like that. That natural woman's right was denied to you when your son failed to thrive. A carrot was dangled in front of you to get you to move, but then it was snatched away. That's so wrong. You deserved to be happy, but you were continually denied the opportunity. "

"That's not entirely true, Rose. I did lose my son, an event that changed my world entirely, but as is often the case, through our greatest trials our sweetest victories emerge.

No one will ever fill the void in my heart left by my son's death. It is something that I've learned to live with, but at the time that I had given up all hope, hope refused to give up on me. Instead, fate sent me your father, my real soul mate, and along with him came my true destiny.

This life was an adjustment, but in an instant, I went from being a wretched lonely shell of a women to being a desired companion to the most wonderful man I had ever known. I also, much to my amazement, continued my status as a mother."

Esme turned her loving gaze on Carlisle's first born; her precious baby boy.

"As Edward said, we had some growing pains to overcome in our relationship, but from the moment I saw him, I loved him."

Glancing back to her daughter, she continued.

"I couldn't dream of anything better. I thought that my life was complete with a caring husband and a strong, handsome son, but Carlisle wasn't through in his quest to make my life whole. He went on to give me a precious daughter to love and cherish, and then added a delightful son who makes every day exciting and fun. If that wasn't enough, he welcomed two more wonderfully unique people into our family, and now I can't imagine my life without them.

So you see, Rose, I regrettably lost one son but was blessed with five exceptional children to love."

"That was wonderful, Momma," Alice softly said. "I would have never thought that anything good could come from the storms you weathered, but it's wonderful that you were able to break out of the box he kept you in and stand on your own. I count you among the strongest women I know."

"Thank you, sweetheart, but my true strength comes from all of you. I don't know where I would be without the love of my family."

* * *

**AN: **Holiday delay. Sorry about that y'all. Only one more chapter to go, so I should get Christmas with the Cullens wrapped up before the New Year. :-) At least we're still in the twelve days of Christmas.

Hope everyone has been enjoying their holidays, and keeping everything crossed that we all have a very happy new year.


	10. Christmas Memories - Alice

Once it became clear that their mother had shared as much as she was inclined to for the evening, the little gathering fell into a round of random chatter. Debates sprang up between the boys about what made for the best gifts. Even Edward joined in the conversation, though Emmett felt that books of any nature were about as exciting as socks; an opinion he raucously shared.

Good-natured teasing, jokes, and laughter filled the room with a warmth that only comes from spending time with loved ones, but in the middle of yet another debate with Emmett, Jasper's mood took a downward turn.

Leaving the conversation, the soldier moved to where his mate had separated herself from the activity to sort through the presents under the tree. Slipping behind her, the gallant youth wrapped his arms around his petite wife's slender waist while nuzzling her neck.

"What's wrong, hummingbird? You seemed to have been having a good time. What changed?"

"Nothing, Jazzy. Everything is fine." The pixie smiled while entwining the fingers of her hand through Jasper's as she continued to distract herself.

Pulling her around to face him, the Major raised a brow as he cocked his head to the side.

"I know you better than anyone, sweet Alice. There certainly is something wrong, darlin', and I want to make it right, but I can't help if you won't tell me what's going on. I want to help."

Cradling his cheek, Alice stood on tip toe and silenced Jasper with a passionate kiss. Drawing back, she stared into his glittering eyes and smiled sweetly, while a faint sadness still marred her fair features.

"I know that you do, Jazzy, but there isn't anything that you can do. Everything really is alright. I was just feeling a little..." She halted as she searched for the right word before settling on a simple explanation. "Oh, I guess I'm just feeling a little left out, that's all."

"Left out?" Jasper pulled further away while his brows knitted in confusion. "No one would leave you out, baby. This is a family affair, after all."

Alice sighed as she lay her cheek against her mate's chest and absorbed the comfort provided by his embrace, before whispering so softly that only he could hear, "I'm not being left out by design. I feel left out because I don't have anything to share. I don't have any memories from my childhood like the rest of you. I know that most memories are sketchy as it is because of the transformation, but all of you still retain memories that are tied to strong emotions. I have none of that. I know that I must have happy memories, or even sad ones, but it's all blank. It's like I didn't even exist before I became this. Usually it doesn't bother me much, but I just feel like I should have memories from something as important as holidays."

Lifting her head, she looked into his concerned topaz eyes.

"What was my favorite present? What tradition did my family have? Did we have a fireplace for me to hang a stocking from, or a tree in the living room to put presents under? What sort of decorations did my parents put out, or were they not even into Christmas at all? Maybe we were Jewish. I don't know anything, Jazz, but I think that I should. There has to be something that I experienced as a child, but it's all gone and I don't like feeling left out. I'm just not good at it."

"You don't have to feel left out, Alice," Rosalie chimed in as she joined her sister to escape Edward and Emmett's book debate. "We never wanted to make you feel left out. You can always tell us about the first Christmas you and Jasper shared before you found us."

Alice shook her head as the lights from the tree reflected in her eyes. "That doesn't feel the same as the stories that have been shared this evening. There's history in your tales of past holidays that's just lacking in mine."

"Alice, what we have together is history," Jasper pointed out. "Sure, it might not be ancient history like Papa, but it's still something that we shared and memories that we created."

"I know, Jazzy, but still..."

The soldier distractedly ran his hand through his hair as he mulled the situation over. He couldn't stand the idea of his wife being sad, and knew that he had to do something to remedy the situation. Jasper's tawny eyes suddenly narrowed as an idea came to him.

Taking one of her tiny hands between his, the Major gazed lovingly into his mate's face.

"Hummingbird, what if I help you find out more about your history? We can start with one of those ancestry sites, get some names and locations, and go from there. Public records and the like should be able to help. We might even come across some pictures that could ring a bell. You never know what might spark a memory. Everything that was ever lost is still somewhere just waiting to be found."

There was no mistaking the sincerity in Jasper's eyes, and Alice found herself quickly accepting his offer.

"I would like that, Jazzy. I really would," she softly replied. "But, what if it doesn't work? What if there is no trace of my history to be found?"

Jasper's lips suddenly drew up in a cocky half smile as he continued to hold his wife's gaze.

"There is a very simple solution to that problem, hummingbird. If we really can't awaken any memories, we'll just have to work a little harder to make news ones. If we do it right, you'll find that you never needed those old ones anyway, and I can think of a great way to start."

The soldier suddenly dipped Alice back in his arms as he claimed her lips; gently at first, but with more urgency as his passion for her flared. When finally he reluctantly pulled away, a quick check of her emotions found them very different from her recent sadness, but he still sensed some lingering doubt in his pixie lover.

"Alice, darlin', we have forever ahead of us. We have a wonderful family that cares for us, and who are more than happy to help you build the fondest of memories of Christmas and beyond. I know that nineteen years is a good size chunk of time to lose in a normal lifespan, but for us, it's nothing more than a blink of an eye. I promise you, hummingbird, I'm going to see to it that you have more memories than you can handle, and each one will be as sweet as you."

Leaning back in, he kissed her cheek then nipped at her earlobe and softly growled as he whispered, "Now what do you say about going upstairs with me so I can begin to fill up those empty places for you, ma'am? I'm still not sure that you will want to share these memories at our next family gathering, but we can certainly keep 'em for ourselves."

"And me," Edward grumbled while he plinked at the piano keys in an attempt to distract himself from the thoughts circling through his brother's head. "You know, I seriously wouldn't mind being left in the dark about the things that you do when you're alone."

"Oh, hold on a minute there. What's this now?" Emmett perked up upon hearing Edward's discomfort. "Is someone in for a special little Christmas treat?" The bruin waggled his brows as a brilliant grin bloomed across his face.

"This something ain't all that little, brother." Jasper returned the grin in kind while hugging Alice tightly against his body.

"Oh for God's sake, Jasper! Too much sharing. Just stop, and if you really can't control yourselves for one evening, could you please, at the very least, take it outside? Have some consideration for the rest of us. _That_ would be the greatest gift in _my_ world."

"Eddie, you know what you need? Dude, go find yourself an elfish one night stand or something to take the edge off. You know, I hear that the pros give special holiday rates for the lonely hearts. Go have the old pipes cleaned out and you won't get nearly as uptight about the rest of us getting down with it. Seriously, you've got to loosen up, bro. I mean, if you don't think Rose is going to be taking a trip along Santa's North Po..."

"Emmett!"

"Emmett Dale, that is quite enough," Esme reprimanded sharply before the boy's colorful descriptions could cause Edward any more distress. "Can't you behave yourself for a single night?"

"I am behaving, Momma. All I was doing was offering little Eddie some big brotherly advice. I thought that was what good brothers do."

Edward rubbed a hand over his face as he groaned loudly, while Esme closed her eyes and shook her head sadly.

At the outer edge of the growing debate, Jasper caught Alice's hand and pulled her up while he encouraged her to accompany him upstairs. They had nearly made it to the steps when an odd look crossed her face.

"I think I would rather take a walk. Some fresh night air and romance under the stars sounds like just the thing to cheer me up, but before we go, I need to give Momma something."

Alice slipped from of her lover's grasp and returned to the tree. Rifling through the packages, the pixie came across a green and silver wrapped box sporting a dark green velvet bow. An enchanting smile lit up the girl's face before she skipped over to her mother and handed Esme the package while giving her father a little wink.

"What's that?" Carlisle inquired, with a touch of concern coloring his tone.

"Just a gift from Carmen and Eleazar," Alice chirped as she bounced on her toes.

Slightly confused by her mood swing, but pleased to see her happy, Jasper caught his mate's hand and pulled her back towards him until he was able to wrap her in his arms.

"I can wait until tomorrow to open it with the rest of the gifts," Esme said, even as she shook the box to hear a hard thump resound from inside.

"No. You have to open it now," the seer commanded with a nod.

"Is it something that will spoil?" Esme looked at her daughter in complete confusion.

"Just open it," the girl encouraged as she grew more and more impatient. "This will be fun. Trust me. I've seen it already."

Once again, Alice's focus switched from her mother to her father before she giggled happily.

Carlisle cocked a brow. "Why do I get the feeling it's something that is going to explode in my face?"

"Nothing like that at all, Daddy. It's a fantastic gift that will bring both of you a lot of really great adventures."

Between the boundless energy emanating from Alice and her sudden giddiness, Jasper felt a rush of joy. This was what every holiday should feel like. Happy, carefree, and just plain fun while being surrounded by the ones you love.

His human memory was certainly his best Christmas when he was a different person, but every Christmas that he had spent with his mate and their family contained a plethora of memories greater than any of the others he may have held onto. It was during the holidays more than any other time of the year that Jasper could say he really felt at home, and that was a feeling that he wouldn't trade for all the world.

The chant of "rip it" from his mate drew his attention back to the scene unfolding before him. His siblings had set aside their playful banter for a few moments to find out what all the fuss was about and all eyes were focused on their mother.

Esme slowly worked the tape free as her daughter sighed in exasperation.

"The paper is too pretty to tear. We should save it to reuse," the matriarch commented while she continued the painfully slow process of unearthing her present.

"As if you're ever going to do that, Momma. Just open it," Alice encouraged.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Esme took the time to fold up the paper before popping open the box. Sifting through the tissue, a curious expression crossed her features as she withdrew a set of books from the package.

"Books? All of this build up was for a couple of books? See, Eddie," Emmett groused while delivering a glancing punch to his brother's upper arm. "Now do you get how lame of a gift that is?"

Edward shoved the bruin away, but remained quiet and began to smirk as he scanned his mother's mind.

"What is it, honey?" Carlisle asked.

"Apparently it's some fictional series," she answered while turning one of the books over to read the synopsis. "Fifty Shades of..."

"Oh, hell no. I can't believe he went through with that. Esme, give those to me," the patriarch demanded while holding his hand out expectantly.

"I'll do no such thing, Carlisle Cullen. This gift was labeled for me," came her sprightly reply as she held the novel just out of her husband's reach. "Besides, this sounds like a very interesting read."

"It could have used some better editing, but it's good for glossing some ideas from," Rosalie remarked as she absently checked her nails, before the feeling of being stared at caused her to glance up. "What, Emmy?"

"How... When did you...?"

"Oh, please. You remember our last honeymoon in Tahiti?"

"Yeah, but what does... OH." Emmett's eyes widened as the pieces fell into place.

"There you go."

"Oh, damn, Pops. Merry Christmas to you."

Carlisle rolled his eyes while he made another unsuccessful grab for the book in his mate's hand.

"Momma, if you want any tips, Jazz and I have some other books you can read and a few toys you can try out, too," Alice helpfully offered.

Carlisle's eyes darkened a shade as he caught his southern son's eye. "Is this some sort of conspiracy that the two of you worked out with Eleazar as a means of getting even with me?"

Jasper took a step back as he held his hands up before him.

"No, sir. I had no idea this was happening, but I don't think it's a bad idea at all if you'll just give it a try. In fact, if you let Momma take the lead, I think you'll find out just how much fun the bedroom can really be."

"Oh, dear God! I can't unsee that. Jasper, why? Why would you think that?" Edward's bellyaching caused the entire group, including Carlisle, to break down in a fit of laughter.

"Don't want to see it? Then don't be picking around in my thoughts. Serves you right, Edward. Just think of that as a mental version of coal and switches for your naughty behavior." Jasper grinned at his mind reading brother before scooping his wife up in his arms. "And as for you, ma'am, I do think that a midnight stroll is most certainly in order. I have the feeling that things are going to get much more heated in here, so let's go chill on our own for awhile."

With Emmett's hearty laughter ringing through the house as Esme continued her impromptu game of keep away with Carlisle, Jasper carried Alice down to the river before placing her tiny booted feet gently on the snow dusted ground.

"You know, Jazz, I don't think I need those memories after all. That's probably why I've forgotten them. There's really no point in living in the past, and I can't think of a memory that would be able to top tonight's anyway."

"And the night's not over yet, lil' darlin'. There's a pretty secluded spot a little north from here where we can catch a glimpse of the Northern Lights. What do you say to seeing if we can find a way to out shine 'em?"

With a musical giggle, Alice slipped her hand into Jasper's and allowed him to lead her through the woods, knowing in her heart that this was her best Christmas ever.

**_FINI_**

* * *

**AN: **Thank you all for taking this trip down Cullen memory lane with me. Hope it was enjoyable. I have to admit that I had fun with it.

Special thanks to my betas, Splinter, Jasper1863Hale, and edwardian1901, without whom I would not be able to do these things. I would also like to thank my fabulous moral support team of rubyblue100 and Cullen1007. All of you guys are just the greatest. And finally, a HUGE thanks to all of my readers who have made this year in Cullen world so rewarding. Hope everyone has a safe and extremely happy New Year.


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